With Eyes Wide Open
by goldnox
Summary: Sequel To Blinded / After the blindfold comes off, what comes next for Damon and Elena? Should they stay in Mystic Falls and face the judgment of her friends and family, or is there someplace they can go to finally learn what it means to really be together? And more importantly, where they are free to love one another, with hearts and eyes wide open. / DELENA / AU Ssn 3
1. Sighted

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! So we're gonna do a little bit of a flip from everything that Unthinkable was (you know, angst, death, more angst, more death, etc), including staying in DAMON POV because apparently my muse is bipolar and has commanded some fluffy, smutty, fluff-smut. That pesky little drunken leprochaun is also on speed right now, which I am so not complaining about. Because...this was totally supposed to be a one shot. And Trogdor laughed for about an hour after I told her that, and all the things I wanted to include in the fic. And true to form, it has IZSPLODED into multiple chapters already. Awwww, shux.**

**All the thanks to Trogdor19, for somehow finding time to beta this. And avidly gushing all over it while I was decorating my Christmas tree and effectively making my whole night :)**

**THE RUNDOWN: This is a companion piece to _Blinded_, which if you have not read, Damon and Elena have been sleeping together at night during Season 3, but have not been acknowledging that fact during the day due to some rules placed on their trysts, including the use of a blindfold for Elena. This story starts the next day after _Blinded_ ends, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1: Sighted**

I haven't opened my eyes and I already know: she's staring at me. I have no idea how she's even awake considering how exhausted we both were after last night. It's actually a little demoralizing. Clearly, I'm going to have to step up my game if I want to get any sleep at all. Not that I mind finding the cap on her stamina and soaring right past it. Girl may be a hellcat but she's still human. Oh, the fun we're going to have.

I take a breath and try to control my smile. I love the smell of her room. It's soft and flowery sweet, like summer picnics and cotton dresses and fragile innocence. But there's something a little different, a little darker this morning. There's a hint of leather and the spice of my cologne, a dim trace of sex still lingering somewhere in between and pulling all of them together. It's deliciously intoxicating and I hope I never take it for granted. Because it's not like last night was the first time we've slept together, but it is the first time I stayed afterward because things have changed.

She's ready to try being an "us."

She shifts a little deeper into her pillow, her girly-printed sheets rustling under her.

"Go back to sleep," I breathe.

A pause, then a cheerful and whispery, "Can't."

I grunt and stretch with a yawn, reaching up to extend my arms and finding her headboard, lengthening the muscles in my back and hips and legs as far as I can but her bed is too short. Thank God I'm not taller, I'm already practically hanging off the end. Her pulse spikes when the sheets pull down and cold air hits my abs, and this time I can't help my grin. You'd think she would be used to me by now.

I open my eyes and find her staring at me just like I knew she was, a warm blush bringing life to her cheeks as she bites her lip.

"Jeez, Elena, can't a guy get a little privacy?" I scowl and her eyes pop in shock. "How would you like it if people looked at you like some sort of meal?"

"That's not-" she starts defensively and cuts off, her eyes narrowing as the corner of my lips turn up. She yanks the pillow out from behind my head and bats at me with it. "God, you're such a jerk!"

I chuckle and grab the pillow, pulling it towards me and she comes with it, soft bare skin pressing against mine. I fling the pillow off the bed and wrap her in my arms, tickling her side and holding her still while she squeals and wiggles on top of me, and it's not doing anything but making me wonder why we ever went to sleep in the first place.

I stop my assault to let her catch her breath and her forehead drops onto my chest, her hair tickling my nose and cascading over my shoulder. I can feel her smile.

I brush her hair back and drop a kiss to her crown, and she looks up at me, absolutely beaming and my throat closes.

"Hey, Elena-" Both our heads whip towards the third voice that just cut off, Elena's bedroom door banging against the wall while her brother gapes at us. "What the hell?!"

"Oh my God, Jeremy, get out!" Elena shrieks and sits up, pulling the covers up around her. I wink at him and flutter my fingers in a wave, and his expression turns murderous.

"What is he doing here?" Jeremy snaps and I rest a hand casually behind my head.

"I'll tell you when you're older," I smirk at him, hearing Ric starting to grumble from his room down the hall.

"Jeremy, you can't just barge in here!" Elena yells and I clear my throat, trying not to laugh at how red her whole exposed back is.

"What is wrong with you?" Jeremy yells back. "What about-"

"Can you guys keep it down?" Ric mutters, shuffling into the bedroom to stand next to Jeremy while rubbing at his eyes, and Elena sucks in a breath. "My head is killing me."

"Mornin', buddy. What's for breakfast?" I say lightly and his hand drops to his side, eyes bulging and then narrowing when they land on me lying next to Elena, who is still desperately clutching the sheet to her chest.

"You son of a-"

"Can everybody please get out of my room?!" Elena screeches and Ric and Jeremy both look at her, an identical shade of red taking their cheeks. "Now!"

Jeremy stomps out and Ric looks back to me, pointing at me threateningly. "We're not done," he growls.

"Can't wait," I grin and flare my eyes at him, Elena falling back down to the mattress in a huff when he slams her door behind him.

She starts to pull the sheet over her head and I tug it back down, rolling onto my side and propping my head up so I can watch her face. She's not crying, but nothing about her reaction is helping to ease the nerves in my stomach.

I take up a lock of her hair, toying with it and twirling it around my finger.

"So…I'm thinking a right hook or two, followed by an omelet and then a trip to Home Depot to buy some deadbolts."

She looks at me and it's ninety-five percent pissed off, three percent embarrassed, and the other two I can't pin down which makes me want to bail out the window before I have to hear her say the word "mistake."

I set down the section of hair I'm playing with, smoothing my palm over it before I pull my hand back to myself.

"Fine, French toast, then," I shrug, "if you're going to be all picky about it."

I give her half a smile and she softens, her mouth twisting into a frown that locks my muscles in place before she's pushing me onto my back, curling up against me with her head on my shoulder. I swallow my relief, encircling her in my arms and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"They're never going to accept us," she whispers and I close my eyes.

I do my best to make my tone teasing when I say, "Were you expecting a party and a parade?"

"No, I just…" she trails off, shaking her head.

I sigh and I wish I could tell her that it'll all be fine, but I won't lie to her. The amount of time it would take for her friends to be comfortable with me and her together isn't an option because she doesn't want to live that long. And even with all that Stefan is, she only got a taste of the judgment that's going to rain down on her when word spreads about who was in her bed this morning. I don't give a fuck what Blondie or Witchy or her brother or Ric have to say about any of it, but I know she does. And it's not like they don't have a point in how wrong I am for her, but I'm done with the unrequited pining and _she's_ the one that asked me to stay.

She pulls away suddenly and sits up on her knees to face me, determination strengthening her face.

"You know what?" she snaps and I stay very still, because I have no fucking clue. But I have ten guesses running through my mind and I don't like any of them. "Screw them," she scowls and points at the door. "They can get over it."

Okay, was not expecting that one.

She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow at me. "We're leaving."

I scoff. "Yeah, sure we are," I say mockingly.

"I'm serious, Damon. I want to go."

I lock my jaw as I consider her.

So that's her plan? To keep us hidden? Why am I not surprised. Because sure, she'll have sex with me after I climb through her window when everyone's asleep, but she won't let on a hint about it the next day. Just like how she texts me all the time, but she only calls when her friends aren't around. And now she wants to be with me, but only where no one can see us together? It's not like I'm not looking to take out an ad in the paper or put up a billboard, but fuck that.

"Send me a postcard," I sneer at her. "Or _not_."

Her mouth gapes as I roll out of bed, looking for my pants.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" she hisses as I start sliding my jeans up my legs. "Were you just waiting for them to find out so you could check that off your Piss Off the World list before you bailed?"

I round on her, not even bothering to finish my zipper or button I'm so furious. "If anyone is running, Elena, it's you. You want to slink off because you're embarrassed? Be my guest. But don't expect me to go with you."

Her face falls and body sags, but she's going to have to get over it.

I turn around to grab my shirt that's hanging on the back of her chair, slipping my arms through the sleeves.

"Damon…" she says softly and I cringe.

"No."

Boots, I need my fucking boots so I can get the hell out of her room. I glance around and they're by her window seat. I don't even want to look at that damn bench that I have stepped over so many times coming in here at night. Should've known.

I grab them and yank them on, turning to get my jacket. I face the window again and Elena's in front of me, sheet wrapped around her and blocking my exit. I don't even remember hearing her leave the bed.

I narrow my eyes at her but she doesn't move. I could go downstairs and through the front door but fighting Ric and Jeremy right now would be a bad idea with how pissed off I am. I could use Jeremy's window, I consider, and am about to take my first step in that direction when her voice stops me.

"Let me explain," she pleads. "I'm not hiding, I swear. I just…"

"You just _what_, Elena?"

"I want to give us a chance," she tells me and it sounds so sincere that I have to remind myself that she's trying to keep me a secret. "And we can't do that here, not with them. Damon…" she sighs and shakes her head, "we need a fresh start and things are going to be hard enough without everyone telling us how wrong we are. I swear to you, I will fight for us and I will stand up to them, but first, can we just have five minutes to enjoy this on our own? Please?"

I clench my jaw and she glances down and tucks her hair behind her ear, and when she peeks back up at me, her eyes are open and honest when she says, "I just…I just want to be with you, _only_ you."

And just like that, all the fight leaves my body. Which is so fucking unfair and what's worse is, she knows she's won.

Because she steps closer into me, dropping the sheet and snaking her arms inside my open shirt, kissing my chest before she nips at me.

"We can bring the blindfold, if you want," she whispers and I groan.

I drop my jacket onto her windowsill and weave my fingers into her hair by her temples, tilting her head back so I can see her eyes and releasing a deep breath when they settle on me. I've waited a long time for her to look at me like this, and one night isn't about to satisfy that need. But fucking hell if my mind isn't spinning with all the things I want to do to her with that black scarf in place.

"Oh, we're bringing it," I smirk at her and her pulse dances.

I lean down to kiss her and she attacks my lips hungrily, her tongue plunging into my mouth as her arms circle my neck and I know she's starved for this, with all the times she asked me to kiss her and I told her no. And for the life of me, I don't know what the hell I was thinking.

I bend and pick her up in a low hug, a quiet laugh trickling out of her with her mouth still pressed against mine as I carry her to the bed, laying her down gently. My body is all predator, hovering over hers when she begins to coyly scoot further onto the mattress. I sit up and grab behind her knees, an excited squeal escaping her when I yank her back towards the edge of the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" I growl, beginning to kiss her neck as she squirms breathlessly, her hips rocking up towards mine.

My right hand drifts and teases its way up her thigh and I shift, poising my mouth over hers just in case. I slide one fingertip against her and she gasps, her grip on my shoulders nearly painful and it hurts so good. I dip my tongue into her mouth the same time as my finger slips inside her, and her replying moan rumbles all the way down my throat and into my cock. Thank Christ my zipper is undone because she is so warm, so wet for me, and everyone else in this world can fuck off because there's no way I'm letting her go.

I curl my finger inside her and the breathy whisper of my name on her lips is enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"Shh," I press into her mouth and very slowly, begin to circle her with my thumb. Her whole body quivers as she gets wetter, her legs spreading wider as she strains up against my hand. I give her another finger and her grip on my shoulders tightens, nails scratching delectably at my skin. I swallow her scream when I flick my thumb over her clit, pressing against her in rhythm to the clenching throbs I'm rewarded with.

"Damon…" she grits out and I pull away from her over-sensitive clit, but still lightly stroking inside her while she catches her breath because I just can't seem to stop touching her. Ever.

One of her arms slides around my neck, her hand threading into my hair and guiding my mouth back down to hers, and I'm totally lost in her kiss when I feel dainty fingers wrap around my cock. My body jerks with a moan and she smiles against my lips, stroking my entire length with the perfect amount of pressure to drive me insane.

She sweeps her thumb over my swollen head and I groan, thrusting my dick into her hand as she shifts under me. She tightens her grip and I growl, my hips plunging again and my cock gets its first taste of her this morning, never realizing how close I was until her slick warmth stretched around me.

I grit my teeth and make myself stay absolutely still, her hand leaving my shaft to claw at my back in an effort to pull me closer, deeper, but I…_can't_.

Because Ric is downstairs and he just muttered for the third time in five minutes that if we're not dressed and down there in two, he was going to cut my dick off. And I'm starting to believe him.

I mutter a curse and pull out of her with a herculean effort, standing up to tuck myself into my jeans and closing them before I forget all about friends and brothers and just fuck her every way I've ever wanted to and haven't done yet.

"Damon? What are you doing?" Elena asks me and she looks ten shades of confused and hurt and rejected and I am a fucking _idiot_.

I grab her hand and haul her up so she's standing in front of me, taking my frustration out on her mouth, her body bent under the force of my kiss.

Ric warns that he's thirty seconds from coming upstairs with a stake and I pull away from her.

"Okay," I say and blow out a breath. "You," I say pointedly, turning her around by her elbow and slapping her ass. She jumps and squeaks and I can't help but grin. "Are going to get in the shower so I can go deal with Ric." She starts toward the bathroom as I begin buttoning my shirt, and she turns around when she's five steps away from me.

"Sure you won't join me?" she taunts and I chuckle, shaking my head.

"Go now, Elena. Or I'll make you wish you had."

"Mmm. Tempting," she smiles and I take a menacing step towards her, probably looking like a grinning moron when she shrieks and scampers into the bathroom, a beautiful giggle floating out from behind the bathroom door she shut behind her.

"Damon, I swear…" Ric threatens from downstairs and I sigh, walking out of Elena's room.

"I know, I know," I snap, loud enough that he can hear as I start making my way downstairs. "Pain and suffering and lots of dire, pointy things…"

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A sore jaw, one strained friendship, and an hour of laugh-worthy glares from Little Gilbert later, I'm back home and waiting for Elena to come bursting through my front door, telling me we're over before we began because she can't take the heat. To say Ric was not exactly thrilled about finding us in bed and then at Elena's announcement of her little escape plan is like saying he enjoys the occasional nightcap. You know, just a sip here and there. Right.

I wasn't expecting a handshake or a pat on the back from him, but Jesus Christ, it's not like I stole her virginity and got her addicted to crack. And I can take whatever he wants to throw at me, but when he went off on _her_, I fucking lost it.

After her shower Elena pranced down the stairs smelling like heaven and looking even better, and walking straight up to him while cocking her eyebrow and an attitude, she told him he can take whatever warning-her-off-me crap he was about to spout and shove it. I couldn't help but laugh out of pure pride, until his icy gaze turned from me and back to her.

My best friend wasted no time in rattling off a list of my faults, which I was fine with, and apparently so was Elena. It's not like she doesn't know who I am. But when he started guilt tripping her about Stefan, his back hit the fridge with enough force to warrant a shopping trip to Sears.

With my hands locked in his shirt, Elena yelling, and Jeremy trying and failing to pull me off, I thought we were probably at the climax of the event. And when I did let him go and he tried to throw me out, it shouldn't have been such a monumental shock to everyone when I told him to fuck off. Admittedly, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to point out that I've been walking through that front door longer than he has, and it's not like he's her father anyway.

Face, meet Ric's fist.

Whatever, it's not the first time he's hit me and I'm sure it won't be the last. At least this time Elena was there, acting all worried mother hen over me. I always figured that would be annoying, not to mention embarrassingly degrading, but it was surprisingly kind of nice. I still left after that just in case people started getting grabby with the wooden spoons.

It really may not be such a bad idea to get out of town for a while.

Gravel crunches under tires outside and I don't move from my office chair because I already know who it is. I've got a fifty-fifty shot of what's going to happen when she comes through that door, and damn it, I'm going to be an optimist. I finalize the reservation and close my laptop, opening the drawer I keep it in when the front door opens and Elena calls my name. I slide the drawer shut a little louder than necessary and her footsteps head to where I am, casually leaning back in my chair and nursing my glass of bourbon.

When she props up against the doorframe her face is clear, no sign of tears and that could be very good, or very bad. Either she's still on Operation I Don't Care or it's just that I don't warrant a teary-eyed break up speech from her. Really hoping it's not the latter, but there's also no bag on that sexy little shoulder. I take another drink to keep my mouth shut and just wait out the inevitable.

Two blood bags she starts with a, "Hey."

Four bottles of bourbon riding on a, "So..."

The lives of ten sorority girls are hanging on a possible, "I can't do this anymore, Damon."

But she's not speaking. Instead, she pushes off the wall and walks over to where I'm sitting, perching herself on the corner of my desk and leaning back on her hands. Her head tilts as she watches me watching her, and she blushes.

What the fuck?

"Where are we going?" she asks quietly and I take another drink to keep from choking or laughing or both.

"Any requests?" I say and she shakes her head slowly, the soft smile on her face looking like she really doesn't care where we end up.

I nod once and her smile grows before she looks around my office curiously, her gaze sweeping over the wall of books and the few paintings on the walls, the leather wingback in the corner next to the wet bar. She peruses my desk and picks up an obsidian paper weight, gently turning it around in her hands before setting it carefully down.

"What do you do in here?"

"Plot and scheme how to take advantage of impressionable young girls." I grin and she rolls her eyes at me.

"I'll bet."

I shrug. "Seems to be working out pretty well from where I'm sitting."

She crosses her legs with a mocking glare and I chuckle, slipping my hand under the cuff of her jeans and teasing her ankle with my fingertips. She shivers but tries to hide it, and slowly I work my way up to her calf, massaging her smooth leg with just enough pressure that her breathing is heavier than it should be.

"Ready to go?" I ask her, my voice pitched low and gritty enough that goosebumps rise on her skin under my palm.

She swallows, but her voice is still crackly when she says, "Yep."

I try to control my smirk and drag my fingernails back down her leg before I pull my hand away from her, and she blows out a quiet, controlled breath that I pretend to ignore as I drink the rest of my bourbon before setting the glass down. I stand and she sits up, her hands gripping the edge of desk like she's about to hop down.

I've got a better idea.

I lightly cup the back of her neck as I bend to kiss her deeply, and she seems to be on the same track as I am when she sighs into my mouth and her hands fist into the front of my shirt. I unhook her legs and hitch one around my hip, my hand greedily gripping her as it slides over denim from her knee to her thigh before I grab her ass, scooting her forward so I can press my erection against her. She moans with me and I swear, she is not allowed to wear clothes once we get to our destination.

I leave her lips to tug her shirt up and off, flinging it away without a care because the only thing that matters is that I can taste her skin. I nip at her neck and she trembles, her hands making a mess of my hair as she holds me to her.

"Damon," she pants and I fucking_ love_ hearing her say my name like that. So much so that I have to reach down to adjust the front of my pants before I free her breasts from exquisite lace, taking one pert nipple in my mouth and getting her back to arch when I scrape it with my teeth. "We can't…in here…" she says timidly even as her legs tighten around me.

I kiss my way back up to her mouth and take her face tenderly in my hands, smirking against her lips when I whisper, "We can do whatever the hell we want." She giggles and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer against me so her breasts are pressed into my chest. I realize with disappointment that I'm still wearing my shirt and I growl, wanting her skin against mine. We'll have to fix that.

I lean forward carefully and lay her down on the desk, her back popping up against the cool wood before she resettles against it. I straighten and work open just enough buttons on my shirt that I can reach behind my head and pull it off, her eyes widening at the sight of my chest and I try to control the wince as my cock strains against my zipper. But first things first. Step one: get Elena naked.

She bites her lip with a blush when I make quick work of her socks and shoes, and she actually covers her face with her hands for a moment when I unhook her jeans and unzip them. I yank her pants and her panties off with a little more enthusiasm than precision and she is completely red by the time they hit the floor. That's when it hits me that she's probably never had sex outside of a bed with four walls and a closed door around it.

I slow down a little when I ease her up so her lips settle on the top of my shoulder, her body draped against mine with one of her slender arms wrapped around my neck. I caress her back with one hand while I unhook my jeans with the other, and the sound of my zipper being pushed open by my cock makes her squirm.

I shove my jeans down to my thighs and rock my hips forward so I can slide against her, and she's crazy wet. She always is and it's a drug that I don't have the first clue how to resist, and I don't want to.

I slam into her and I think she sucked in a breath, but my mind can't process anything to be sure. Who the fuck can think when they're buried in exquisitely tight, sinful warmth, teeth digging into their shoulder and nails clawing at their back?

I thrust into her hard and fast as soon as my brain starts firing again and I can't get deep enough, the swollen tip of my cock on a hunt for something that's hidden inside her and I need it, need to find it and own it and claim it because it's supposed to be mine.

Faster, deeper I drive into her until all I can hear are my growls and grunts and her whimpering moans between gasping breaths until she goes completely silent, her body clamping down around me and painting my dick with her pleasure. And _that's_ it, that's what I needed to find so blindly. But even now, I don't stop. I _can't._

I lean forward so I can grip the other side of the desk behind her, using it as an anchor to surge more powerfully and she lets go of me, collapsing onto the wood and her hands reaching up so they're positioned inside of mine, clinging to the desk. I slam into her relentlessly and her eyes squeeze shut as she bites her lip, her thighs quivering over my hips before her eyes pop open with a shout, her back bowing under an orgasm stronger than before and I don't even hide my smug grin. And watching her only injects more adrenaline into my body.

I give her every ounce of strength I have in my back and my legs, and I've fucked her this hard before and she's never complained once, so screw it. I chase down my release greedily and focus on everything about the way she feels, her hands searching my body as they drift over my neck and my shoulders and my chest and my stomach and around again until she's touching me everywhere, leaning forward to kiss anything she can reach.

My eyes roll back when she bites my collarbone and my head swells inside her, stretching her more. Her tiny palm presses against my chin and tilts my head up so she can scrape her teeth over my jaw, and I lose it completely, dropping to my elbows to propel forward, burning heat surging through my length and pumping out of me and into her, exactly where it belongs. It goes on forever, glorious, brain-numbing euphoria taking all rational thought with it under each additional wave.

My body jerks as I finish and _Christ_ my orgasms with her are ridiculous. I drop my forehead down to cool wood and try to catch my breath, Elena breathing steadily under me and apparently content to just let me crush her even though I damn well know I should move. I just can't right now.

She shifts and presses a soft kiss to my cheek and I breathe a smile, lifting up enough that I can kiss her. It's all thick and hazy and slow and luscious and I can't believe that this is what I've been missing. So stupid; so, so _stupid_.

I switch to kissing her quick and playfully, faster than she can keep up and she giggles beautifully, her body shaking under me as I continue to tease my favorite sound out of her. I smack one more on her lips before I straighten and take in the sight I've waited a long time to enjoy, her eyes open and un-blinded, happily smiling and looking like I'm everything she wants to see.

Fuck the scarf. This is a thousand times better.

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**A/N: Alright guys! Are we excited to take a road trip? Any guesses to where they're headed? Feel free to drop me a line via review (te he he), and don't forget to give some LOVE to those follow buttons, they're super friendly ;) And as always, thanks for reading! **

**-Goldnox**


	2. Different Is Better

**A/N: Holy crap y'all. You guys never cease to amaze me. I cannot thank you enough for always backing me no matter what I throw at you. So so grateful. Just a note, this fic is going to have a LOT of smut in it. Hope that's okay with everyone ;)**

**TROGGY! I FRIGGIN LOVE YOU! You guys, Trogdor19 just finished the first draft of her NOVEL! AND IT IS AMAZING! And she's still beta'ing for me while working like 70 hours a week. And writing her season 5 fic, In Time We Trust. Just incredible! So show that girl some love because there is no me without her, and if you are not following In Time We Trust, now is a great time to start because the windows of the Camaro are about to get super foggy. In the best way possible :) **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Different is Better**

It's a good thing we're not on a schedule because if we were, we'd be late.

After crossing off one of the many fantasies on my bucket list we went upstairs and showered, and yeah, it was my fault that we took so long under the water. But she looks so damn good with bubbles on her skin, dripping and sliding over her breasts and ass that it was worth every extra minute. But when we got out and I started trying to pack my bag, she looked so cute lying on her stomach on my bed, arms hugged around a pillow and feet swinging lazily that I couldn't just _not_ kiss her.

Totally her fault.

One little kiss blended into another, which quickly led to touching, and that translated into introducing Elena to just how quiet my mattress is, despite what's happening on top of it. And we put it to the test.

She passed out afterwards, thankfully giving me a chance to re-pack the bag that had been at the foot of my bed before things got out of control. Somehow it ended up dangling from the corner of a painting, my clothes scattered all over the room. I still can't quite figure out how that happened, but I have a couple of options to choose from and those ideas? They were all brilliant.

But still, we only just left and it's already a quarter after three. If we had left first thing this morning we probably could have made the trip in one day, I've done it before, but at the rate we're going it's going to take us two days to get there. And I wouldn't mind so much except that Elena is fully dressed and is going to be that way for a long, long time.

I make the mistake of glancing down at her legs and I am in so much trouble, there's no way I'm going to make a sixteen-hour drive with those next to me. Maybe I can schedule a quickie pit stop. Ten bucks says she's never had sex in a car.

My sight strokes up her body, over her hips and flat stomach and stopping where the seatbelt is separating her breasts and pulling her shirt tight enough that I can tell the exact line where lace blends into creamy skin, and I swallow. Her throat clears and I peek up at her face, her lips pursed against a grin and an eyebrow arched over the aviator sunglasses that are mine, but she's insisting on wearing. And I don't give a fuck because she looks like sugary sin in them, her hair whipping around behind her in the wind because we have the top down in the Camaro.

"Car," she says haughtily and I narrow my eyes at her before glancing at the road. Just in time to see some asshole pulling out in front of us. I slam the clutch and the brake, popping into neutral and swerving to the shoulder with a curse, the prick at least accelerating to get out of our way before we hit. Elena sucks in a breath as I cut around behind him, and we miss but it's too close for anything I'm comfortable with when I have a perfectly breakable human in my passenger seat.

When we're back on paved blacktop I look at Elena and expect her to be in shock and fifteen shades of white, but she's fine, her head propped in her hand with her elbow on the door.

"So, maybe I should drive," she teases and I chuckle in relief. I don't know if she's calm because she's been in more accidents than I ever want to think about, or if she blindly trusts that I'll keep her safe. Maybe it's both.

I get us back into fourth gear before I reach over and squeeze her thigh. "Stop distracting me, woman."

"Sure, blame me," she says with a grin. "So…" she starts and twirls her hair around her finger after I release her, "where are we going?"

I smirk but I don't answer.

"Really, Damon?"

"Some place _warm_," I give her and she narrows her eyes at me.

"How warm?"

"Warm enough to keep you out of jeans," I grin and I wait for her shrieky response, or maybe a light shove, but she's silent. And when I look over to check, she's staring at the trees whizzing by on her side of the road. Huh.

I tuck her hair behind her ear, my thumb petting the smooth skin of her neck where it blends into her shoulder before I reach down and find her hand on her lap, and squeeze it. "Elena," I say softly, and she looks at me. "We can go somewhere else, I don't care."

"No, it's fine," she blushes.

"Sure? We can head up to Minnesota and swaddle you in long johns and parkas if that's what you really want."

She laughs quietly. "Warm sounds nice," she says with a smile that is not fully convincing, but it's enough to keep me from turning around.

I shrug. "Then south we shall go." I bring her hand up and kiss the back of it before I settle her palm on my shifter, my hand covering hers. I get a full, bashful smile, a rosy tint rising up from her neck and into her cheeks before she goes back to watching the scenery.

Over the next few hours I catch her sneaking peeks at me, always with her lip caught between her teeth and blushing like crazy. But she's not saying anything and I don't know what is making her act like this. Besides Ric, Elena's my best friend. We laugh and watch movies and hang out, and she's never been shy around me. I just don't know why being together is apparently changing that.

When we went to Georgia she was fine with fighting with me over the radio, kicking her shoes off and propping her feet on my dash two seconds after I pushed them back down to the floorboard. She whined about needing to stop for snacks and how bored she was. But it's not the same this time and it's starting to freak me out that she's acting so nervous around me.

Because when I stopped for gas earlier and asked her what she wanted from inside, I got a meek little, "I'm fine, thanks," instead of the customary, "Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper, a bottle of water, a pack of gum, but the spearmint kind not the cinnamon. And some mad libs, or a crossword puzzle if they don't have mad libs. Oh, and don't forget the beef jerky. Or the Pistachios. You know what? I'm coming with you because last time you bought the jalapeno Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper and that stuff is disgusting."

If she starts ordering salads at every meal and saying please and thank you instead of bitching at me for drinking too much and vetoing her music choices, I'm going to lose it.

By seven I can't take the silence in the car anymore and I know she has to be starving because she didn't load up on artificial crap, so I pull off in Fayetteville and her brows knit together.

"Is this where we're staying?"

She looks disappointed and it's like a breath of fresh air that she's not really trying that hard to hide it.

"Yep," I nod and she pulls the sunglasses down to cover her eyes from where she had them pushed up into her hair.

"Hmm."

I chuckle. "We're just stopping for some dinner, Elena. Unless you _want_ to stay here."

Her nose wrinkles and it's absolutely adorable. "I think I'm good, thanks."

"Thank God," I mutter and flash a smile before parking in front of some hole-in-the-wall burger joint. There's no way they're selling salads in there.

I get out and stretch and Elena does the same, smiling at me while I act like I'm not having trouble forming words thanks to the bare inch of her stomach that's showing while she extends her arms above her.

"Nice scenery," I wink at her and she laughs, tossing the sunglass onto the seat.

I nod towards the front door and meet her at the hood of the car, slinging an arm around her shoulder and she snuggles into me, her arms hugging me around my middle as we go inside.

So much better.

"Haaai," the woman at the counter drawls. "What can I getch y'all?"

"Do you have any sal-" Elena starts and I cover her mouth with my hand, rattling off an order for two half-pound bacon cheeseburgers and chili cheese curly fries while Elena smacks my stomach.

The woman's eyes widen but she places the order, Elena stomping off with her cup while I pay for it and do a silent victory dance.

"Jerk," she grumbles while filling her cup with Diet Coke. I grab it from her and pour it out, refilling it with the real shit. "Oh my God," she laughs, "what is with you?"

"What is with _you_?" I counter. "I know what you're doing, and knock it off."

She narrows her eyes at me before she rolls her shoulders back. "I don't know what you're talking about." She spins on her heel and heads for a booth and I roll my eyes at her back.

"Sure you don't," I smirk, sliding into the seat across from her.

"I'm serious. I eat salads all the time."

I scoff and she glares at me. "Elena, you eat some of the unhealthiest stuff I've ever seen and at a rate that rivals the guy from Man versus Food." She sucks in a breath and kicks me under the table, and there must be something wrong with me because I can't help but smile. "And I am more than happy to keep making you macaroni and cheese pizza-"

"Oh my God, that was good. I forgot about that," she whispers.

"But if you expect me to buy this, 'I need to watch my figure and drink diet soda and ew! Cheetos are gross!' bullshit then you're out of your mind. Besides," I wink, "I am more than fine with helping you burn off those calories."

She crosses her arms and looks away, her eyes darting to me and away again while I fold my hands in my lap and wait.

Three, two…

"Ok, fine!" she nearly shouts and leans forward, scowling at me. "I'm starving and I want nothing more than a big, juicy cheeseburger and some fries. Happy now?"

"Yeah," I tell her and she rolls her eyes at me.

I lace my hands behind my head and lean back, glancing around at the hundreds of names scribbled on the wooden panels of the booths and all over the walls in different colored sharpies, my leg rubbing against Elena's under the table.

"You suck," she grumbles and I cock an eyebrow at her, grinning deviously.

Country Bumpkin brings our food over before I can decide which crude reply I want to go with, but it's all the same because Elena attacks the fries as soon as they touch the table, the waitress eyeing her curiously while Elena tells her around a mouth of chili and cheese, "Napkins."

"Y'all enjoy," probably-Darla or Dollie tells us, pointing at the roll of paper towels at the end of the table.

"Shut up," Elena tells me after she swallows and wipes her mouth, and I chuckle, reaching over to claim her pickles. I trade them for my tomato slices which I happen to like, but Elena loves them and it's tradition anyways. I barely get the bun back on her burger before she's got it wrapped in a paper towel and taking one far-from-dainty bite with a satisfied moan.

"Better?" I grin and she nods.

I couldn't agree more.

* * *

An hour later and Elena is moments away from a food coma in the passenger seat, and we're back on the road. I asked if she'd rather just stop for the night considering we've got a long way to go, but she swore that she was fine and not tired at all and something about driving at night with the top down was exciting. And it is kind of cool to have the night air and stars above you when you're cruising at eighty down the interstate, but she seemed to get over the fascination quickly in favor of leaning her head against my shoulder. I'm not complaining.

She's been quiet for ten minutes and for probably the first time ever, I wish I drove an automatic so I could hold her to me. But the people in this state don't seem to understand the need to make the remaining thirteen-hour trip clock in under ten, so I'm constantly having to heel-toe it down into third to pass their sputtering diesels. However, I do have a sneaking suspicion that the engine intermittently roaring is actually part of the reason she's falling asleep so fast, like a badass lullaby rumbling all around her. It just makes me love her even more.

By midnight the sound of Elena's sleepy heartbeat is causing my eyes to droop closed and as much as I want to keep going, I don't have a choice but to pull in at a motel. She groans when I gently settle her into her seat so I can get out and get us a room, coming back to find her propped against the door.

I grab our two duffels and my cooler of blood from the trunk, and at least with the top and windows down it's easier to unhook her seatbelt and lift her from the car without opening the door and risk her falling out. She mumbles something unintelligible into my neck while I carry her to the room, somehow managing to get the door open without her waking up. And I keep the lights off, but it doesn't hide the cheap décor that makes me scowl in disgust. I hate shitty little places like this but it's too late for anything else and I need to get her in a bed so she's comfortable.

I lay her down and she immediately rolls onto her side to snuggle with a pillow, and I chuckle quietly while I slip her shoes off and she unconsciously kicks at my hands. I look her over as she bends a knee up to her elbow and I really shouldn't let her sleep with her jeans on, that has got to be all sorts of irritating. I ease her onto her back and she frowns with her eyes still closed, and as deftly as possible I undo the button and zipper and slip them off her, which she does not make easy by continually trying to roll back onto her side. I finally get them off and she sighs and turns onto her stomach, her delightful little ass peeking out from the bottom of her boy short panties.

I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair. Yep, she definitely doesn't make anything easy. Normally she sleeps in a racy little camisole and she's in a t-shirt, but if I try to get that off her she's probably going to wake up and re-acquaint me with how much training she's been doing with Ric, so I let it go.

I make myself step away from her and fold her jeans, opening her bag to lay them inside and I can't help but to check out the rest of her clothes. Four pairs of jeans, a couple of sets of camis and plaid shorts to sleep in, a few t-shirts and a handful of Henley's. No shorts or anything for weather above seventy degrees. I glance at her and smile, closing her bag. I guess that explains her reaction earlier which is nice to know, and we'll take care of it tomorrow. It's not like I told her to pack for the beach. I wasn't even sure we were going anywhere other than backwards.

I shower quickly and when I come out, Elena is sprawled over the entire bed. I spend too long staring at her with a grin on my face, warmth spreading through my chest. I do exchange my towel for a pair of boxers though because I don't want to freak her out if she wakes up in the middle of the night, not knowing why she's in a strange room with a naked man in bed with her.

But I realize my cynicism is probably not even worthwhile because when I slide her over so I can climb under the sheets, she flops around before she curls up against my chest. She takes a deep breath and I press a kiss into her forehead.

"Damon?" she mutters and I smile.

"I'm right here. Go back to sleep," I whisper, and she does.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of upholstery being yanked, and I open one eye. Elena is standing by the window, closing the world's ugliest curtains like the sun is just as offensive as the obnoxious flowery fabric, and she could have been quieter about it but at least she's sealing the blinding light far, far away. I groan and stretch as she stomps over to the bed, crawling over the top of me to get to the other side with no grace in the matter, but that somehow makes it cuter. Even though she did knee me in the ribs.

"Couldn't have closed those last night?" she grumbles and punches her pillow, pulling the covers up to her shoulders as I yawn around a laugh.

"Was a little busy dodging the drool from a snoring chick who had ten pounds of food in her stomach." She lightly kicks me under the sheet and I wince. "What the hell? No abuse until I've had my Wheaties."

"Your fault," she scowls, and then it morphs into a wide yawn which takes all the fire out of it. "Where are we?"

"By the looks of this place?" I tell her, my eyebrows hitting my hairline at a painting of a dog on a fishing boat. "I'd say hell."

Her gaze follows mine and when she spies the picture, she bursts out laughing. "How is he even holding a fishing pole when he has paws?"

"That's the question that's begging to be asked?" I say incredulously, rolling onto my side and propping my head up on one hand. "Not what was the guy smoking that decided that was a worthy thing to spend his time on? Or how about what genius felt this wasn't a traumatizing sight to greet people with when they wake up in the morning?"

"I kinda like it," Elena shrugs and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"Have a nice bus trip home," I smile and she laughs again.

I like happy Elena in the mornings. I could definitely get used to this.

I lean down and kiss her gently, her mouth curving into a smile against mine as her hands settle on my jaw.

"Mmm, good morning," she mumbles against my lips.

"Morning," I whisper back and kiss her once more with her lips all soft and plump from just waking up. She's so addicting. But I still make myself pull away and lay back down, pillowing my head with a hand so I don't push her too fast too soon. It's not worth the risk to lose her looking at me like this.

She rolls on her side to face me, her cheek resting on her fist. "So, where are we?" she asks curiously and I smile, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Savannah," I say with a twang and she chuckles.

"What are we doing in Savannah?"

"Passin' on through, little darlin'. Dontcha worry, them horsies gonna be giddy'in up in no time."

She throws her head back in a laugh. "Oh my God, you have to stop talking like that or I'm never sleeping with you again."

"Noted," I say seriously.

"Where are we going?" she grins.

"Elsewhere," I nod at her and she narrows her eyes at me.

"You're really not going to tell me?"

"Does it really matter?" I counter and she shrugs. "Mm-hmm."

"But I want to know," she pouts.

"You'll find out later."

"Like, _how much_ later? An hour later?" I shake my hand in a maybe and her eyes widen. "Two hours? Five?" she continues when I keep twisting my wrist. "Are we gonna get there tonight?"

"We'll get there tonight, late," I admit and her brow furrows.

"Are we going to Mexico?" she asks and I chuckle.

"Nope, but close. See, they have this new thing called geography, and we're on the east coast and Mexico-"

"Oh shut up," she snaps. "Why don't you and your 'geography' go and find me some breakfast?"

"Is that right?" I ask incredulously.

"Yep," she nods. "Aren't all cavemen supposed to be good at hunting and gathering? Go hunt me some pancakes. And bacon. And gather the coffee while you're at it."

I scoff in dismay. "You want a caveman?" I taunt. "I'll give you a caveman."

"Well, it's apparent that I've got one," she retorts. "So scamper off, and don't forget your stick."

"That's it," I growl and tackle her as she giggles and squirms, pinning her arms above her head with my fingers laced through hers. I nudge her legs apart with my knee and rock my hips forward, my ever-present erection around her finding her center easily but unhappily blocked by the underwear we're both wearing. But I know she can feel it because her eyes widen with a gasp. "What were you saying about a stick?"

"I think they call that a club," she whispers huskily and I flare my eyes at her.

"Damn right."

I nip at her bottom lip and she arches against me, leaning up to kiss me hungrily and I moan as her silky leg slides up against mine and over my hip. I release one of her hands to cup her ass, pulling her tighter against me and this time she's the one that moans wantonly.

"Too many clothes," I whisper and she nods as I sit up.

I get rid of her panties and my boxers as quick as I'm able, settling back between her legs and she's already so wet. I hook my arm under her knee and push into her slowly, feeling her body adjust around me and it's intoxicating.

"God, you feel good," I mutter and she hums her agreement, rolling her hips as she draws her nails across my back. I stroke into her slow and deep, our sighs and groans colliding over our tongues as we grip each other tighter, our kiss bottomless. I drop my forehead to her neck and hook my other arm under her knee so she's openly draped over my forearms, her hand buried in my hair and the other grabbing my ass.

Her nipples are tight and rubbing my chest through her shirt and I need to feel them, taste them. I roll us so she's straddled on top of me and without having to say a word, she crosses her arms over her stomach and grips the hem, pulling her shirt up and off and flinging it across the room as her hair resettles over her shoulders and the ends drip tauntingly down her breasts. She rocks her hips once and my eyes roll back before I surge up, palming one of her breasts while taking her other nipple in my mouth.

She rides me gloriously, her skin warm and soft from sleep, and apparently wonderfully over-sensitive because when I scrape my teeth over her nipple she shivers and tightens. I move to her other side and repeat my movements, and she moans my name as she arches back and somehow sinks even lower.

Her hands find my jaw and tilt my face up to hers, and she bites at my lips as I cup and squeeze her breasts, feeling every inch of her waist and hips and back as she fucks me harder, chasing her orgasm.

Her nails slide to my shoulders and back up to my neck, clamping into my skin as her head falls back.

"Come on, baby," I whisper and meet her thrusts, holding her rolling body in place so I can tilt my hips into the angle to hit her g spot and once, twice, and I've got her screaming, her muscles fluttering in spasms around me.

I lay back carefully and bring her with me, her forehead resting tiredly against my collarbone as I slam up into her and she gasps.

Fuck, if I'm not careful I'm going to come, and one to one is not how I like to take care of my girl.

I slow my strokes and her body loosens on top of me as the last of her orgasm leaves her, and I wrap an arm behind her neck as I ease us onto our sides so she's supported and comfortable. I draw her leg higher around my hip and kiss her gently, my fingertips trailing up her thigh as she starts to meet my measured thrusts.

I know her body well and I'm not unaware that I should give her more time before I go for her second, but I just don't have it to spare. So I keep my mouth soft against hers when I reach between us, and with the lightest touch possible I stroke a fingertip around her but taking care to avoid her swollen clit. She predictably jerks and sucks in a breath, but I don't move away.

"Damon…I can't," she chokes out as her nails dig into my chest.

"Just breathe," I tell her and plunge deeper inside her, dipping my tongue into her mouth so she focuses on everything except my hand. I kiss her harder, stroke faster until she starts to strain against me and thank Christ it doesn't take long because it's taking everything I have to keep from coming apart.

I nudge her clit and she moans, her leg crawling higher around my waist as I circle her again and I tilt my hips to switch angles, the head of my cock pushing against her front wall and she bites her lip. My eyes squeeze shut as I concentrate and begin rubbing her clit with growing speed and pressure, building her up as I rock into her and fire burns down my spine, desperate to be set free.

Her muscles squeeze me once and I groan, my head swollen and thick and I don't know how much more I can take.

"_God, Elena_," I grit out and slam into her because I can't help it, and I'm barely aware through my nearly-painful orgasm that she's shaking, clenched tight around me as we come together.

I finish and my head lolls into the pillow, a sleepy smile taking my face as I open my eyes and see her matching it as she tries to catch her breath.

"Damn, girl," I breathe, "you're going to be the death of me."

She laughs once and with my cock still buried inside her, it's like she just lit every nerve on fire in the best way possible but it's so, so intense.

"Fuck," I groan and chuckle, "don't laugh. Dick's too sensitive."

"Sorry," she whispers and bites her lip as her cheeks stain red.

"Really, you're gonna blush?" I tease as I pull out of her with a moan, and she gets even redder. I scrub a hand through my hair and rest it behind my head. "It's not like we were playing Scrabble, Elena."

"I know what we were doing," she says bashfully and I swear, I don't know how she gets so flustered about sex when she screws like it's her last night on earth.

"Then what are you embarrassed about?"

"I'm not embarrassed," she mutters and looks down.

"Oh, you're not?" I say and reach over to tickle her side.

"Damon, stop!" she giggles and squirms around, and I roll over her so I'm looking down at her smile and flushed cheeks.

"There is nothing wrong with enjoying sex," I tell her patiently. "Especially when you're that good at it," I add with a wink.

"I never said I didn't enjoy it. I just don't feel the need to talk about it all the time."

"Mm-hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing," I shrug.

"Okay, fine, smartass. How's this? 'Oh, Damon, please fuck me with your gigantic penis. Oh baby. Oh baby.'"

I burst out laughing and she tries to hide her grin, but she's failing miserably.

"You're off to a good start," I tell her and she rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. And now that your ego is fed, how about _my_ breakfast?"

"Would you prefer the Sabre Tooth, or the Mammoth?" I ask snootily.

"How about the pancakes with the bacon and the coffee?"

"I'll see what I can do," I smile and kiss her once before I roll out of bed. She pulls up the covers and burrows down, and I cock an eyebrow at her before I rip them back off.

"Damon!" she screeches when I grab her ankles and haul her to the edge of the bed, pulling her up to standing before I bend her over my shoulder and start walking us towards the shower.

"Woman alone not safe," I tell her seriously. "Woman stay by big club."

"You're insane," she mutters. "Can't _believe _I'm dating Fred Flintstone."

"Better than Barney," I tell her and she smacks my ass. Yeah, that probably wasn't smart. "Pancakes and bacon _and sausage_ and coffee?"

"Better," she grumbles and I smile as I turn on the water in the shower.

I know my girl. Bigger is always better.

* * *

**A/N: Are we having fun yet? Because I sure am. Got lots of stuff planned, so stick around and don't forget to click those buttons! **

**In other exciting news, Mirrors and Broken Things is now available to be purchased on Amazon Kindle Worlds! Super cool! And please, if you super really love me and check it out, maybe leave a review? Because they are food for inspiration and my muse is hungry! **

**Thanks to all for reading and hope to see you next chapter!**

**-Goldnox**


	3. Changing Style

**A/N: SO. I JUST WATCHED THE SEASON 5 MID FINALE AND I'M SHAKING. Yeah. So here's the update now instead of this weekend. Jesus.**

**Trogdor19, thank you for always beta'ing so brilliantly. I wish you were here, because I need a hug. *sniffle***

* * *

**Chapter 3: Changing Style**

"Liberal Arts!"

"Nope."

"Theater?"

"Fuck no."

"Law?"

"I already told you, no."

"Damn," Elena mutters and sinks back in her seat, and I reach over to jostle her leg.

She's been keeping us busy the last four and a half hours by trying to dig through my past, but I'm only admitting the stuff she gets correct and it's a hell of a lot more fun to figure out exactly what she thinks of me this way.

So far from her guesses of what degree I hold, I've discovered that she believes I'm the lawyerly type, as that one's popped up three times, possibly a farmer, a professional dancer, a musician, a history buff, a writer, a mathematician, a physicist, fluent in every language including the dead ones, and pretty much the most badass mother fucker ever considering she thinks I'm fully capable of all that shit.

"Giving up?" I grin and she scowls at me.

"No, just thinking…" She sits up like a shot and her eyes are huge before her gaze hardens like she caught me doing something wrong and she couldn't be happier about it.

"What?" I ask because it's freaking me the fuck out to have her looking at me like that.

"Accounting," she says a little too accusatory for my taste.

I study her and raise an eyebrow. "Close."

"Really?" she says, her whole face lit up. "But you said that about the math one too!"

"That was close too," I tell her and she huffs. I squeeze her thigh once and let her go so I can downshift for traffic, and Elena leans over the gearshift so her breasts rub against my arm. "You're gonna have to do better than that, Elena," I chuckle and her little hand settles on my jeans, sliding up my leg.

"Please?" she purrs in my ear and I swallow. She walks two fingers further up towards my cock, which is rapidly growing uncomfortable under the strain against my zipper. Why the hell didn't I wear boxers again? "Just one little hint," she whispers, her palm sliding closer to home and I almost rear-end someone when she actually cups me.

"Fine," I say and clear my throat. "You're taking the class next semester."

She immediately sits back into her seat and her hand leaves, innocently laid in her lap while I glare at her.

"Journalism?" she asks simply, head tilted and eyes open and yeah, that angel act is not doing anything for my testosterone levels when I know what lies underneath her halo is a pair of fuck-me horns.

"What the hell?" I ask and she purses her lips, completely oblivious to my predicament. I mutter a curse and adjust my pants, throwing my hand up in exasperation and looking out the window.

"Don't be mad," she pouts and I sigh.

"I'm not mad, I just…you're a tease, you know that?"

She shrugs. She fucking shrugs. "You started it."

"Oh really?" I grit out and shake my head. "You're going to pay for this, Elena."

"Can't wait," she smiles and winks at me, popping a Pringle into her mouth. I grab the rest away from her and toss them into the back seat. "Hey!"

"We're stopping soon," I tell her and she shoves my shoulder.

"Well you could've just said that, you didn't have to go all Cro-Magnon on me."

"You really want to call me a caveman again?" I tease and she crosses her arms.

"It got me breakfast, didn't it?"

"Got you a lot more than that," I mumble and check my rearview mirror before I switch lanes to exit.

"Economics!" she screams out of nowhere and damn near gives me a heart attack, bouncing up and down in her seat. "That's it! Isn't it? You have a degree in economics!"

"Congratulations," I grin at her.

"God, you're such a geek!" she squeals and flops back in her seat. "Okay, so I win a… Did that sign just say…?"

"What sign say what?" I ask as we exit the highway.

"Are we in Orlando?" she asks suspiciously and I scoff.

"We're not in California."

"Damon, are we going to…?"

"To where?" I ask and this is so much fun.

"To Disney World?" she whispers and I'm not going to laugh. I'm going to be totally serious and play this off as long as I can and…

I burst out in a loud guffaw, laughing so hard I can't breathe. I actually have to pull over and stop at a gas station to catch my breath because I can't see with the way my eyes are watering from the force of it.

"It's not that funny," Elena grumbles and she's all arms-crossed and indignant, and she's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean across the shifter to kiss her, because I am a total ass and love to pick on her and she still puts up with me anyways and I have no idea why.

I pull back and lean my forehead to hers, my hand cupping her cheek.

"No, we are not going to Disney World," I tell her with a smile. "Just dinner."

"Okay," she says and I lift another kiss from her lips.

"Elena, would you like to go to Disney World?" I ask her, and I really try to be sweet but it doesn't help that I start laughing halfway through the sentence.

"Not with you, jerk," she says and I brush my thumb over her cheek lovingly. There are a lot of things I would do for her, but that one may be pushing it.

"Okay, well you just say the word, and I'll call up the Quarterback to fly down here and go with you."

"Ugh," she says and shoves at my chest.

I lean back in my seat and scrub at my eyes. "God, that was good. I haven't laughed that hard since you fell off that bike with the Pom Poms on the handles three weeks ago."

"You are such an ass!" she says and swats at my arm. "And that was your fault!"

"How was it my fault?"

"You said the phrase 'just like riding a bike' was stupid because people forget how to ride bikes."

"And you proved me right," I chuckle and earn another swat for my brilliance. "Okay, okay!" I shout and hold up one hand, reaching into the back seat and finding what I'm looking for. "Pringle parley?" I offer her and hold out the can. She glares and takes one and points it at me threateningly.

"That just saved your ass, Salvatore."

"I hear you," I nod and start the car. I pull out my phone to check the time and it's almost five o'clock. "Damn," I mutter and she looks at me worriedly.

"What?"

"We're late for our reservation with Minnie and Mickey. Think Pluto will have eaten all the rolls by the time we get there?"

"Damon!" she screeches and throws the Pringle at me.

"Hey, that was a truce offering!"

"Kind of appropriate that it's shattered all over you then, isn't it?"

"Gah, she's so grumpy," I frown at Elena and pull out into traffic, and the little Princess leans back and puts her feet up on the dashboard, ankles crossed defiantly.

I look her over and she sticks her tongue out at me.

We drive for another five minutes until I find the district that I want, Elena predictably bitching about my parking job as soon as we stop. I get out and walk around to her side of the car, grabbing her hand and towing her along behind me.

"God, can't we just stretch for a minute?"

"Tick tock," I tell her and look into the different store fronts, but I'm not seeing what I—ah, there's one.

I stop and turn to face her, and she's a little alarmed from being dragged around with no explanation and that's fine with me. I'm going to get an earful in about fifteen seconds and her getting a five minute head start isn't going to slow her down so I opted to skip it.

I take her face in my hands and kiss her sweetly, and she's a little dazed when I pull back from her and that's fine too. Probably in my favor.

"I would really appreciate it if we could get through this without you throwing a hissy fit," I say and don't give her a chance to respond, just pulling her along with me as we go inside the store.

"Hi, can I help you?" an overly-tanned and bleach-blonde surfing ad asks as she sways over to me, her smile tightening when she spots Elena.

I re-lace Elena's fingers through mine and pull her closer, shifting my arm so it falls over her shoulder and our joined hands rest over her heart.

"Yeah, I need a room ready to go in the back. We're gonna do this quick and big."

"Damon-"

"Hush," I tell Elena. "She'll be back there in a second," I tell the salesgirl and she cocks an eyebrow at me before spinning on her heel.

"You are so rude," Elena hisses at me.

"To you or to her?"

"To both of us," Elena says and tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling apologetically at the salesgirl on her way back.

"She's fine," I mutter and roll my eyes. "You're used to it."

"Real nice, Damon."

"The room's all ready if you want to follow me," the girl says to Elena and I let her go, gesturing for her to follow the smell of spray tan.

Elena huffs but follows all the same and I have no idea how I just got out of a twenty minute lecture. I do get a grumbled, "Insane," from her but that just makes me smile.

I point at the other salesgirl who was watching us from behind the counter and jerk my head to come help me, and she pops up from leaning on her elbows like I'm Bob Barker telling her to come on down.

"Size six," I say without preamble and start combing through the racks, the girl getting to work alongside me and grabbing bikinis and strappy little summer dresses and cover ups and shorts and tanks that would look amazing on my girl. I veto a few out of her stack but for the most part we've got a pretty decent beach wardrobe in under ten minutes and I send her back to give them to Elena.

I'm finally stretching the five hour drive out of my back when I hear a soft knock and then Elena screeching, "Damon! Are you serious?!" and I grin.

Maybe she's right and I really am insane.

I head back there and Elena is waiting for me, foot tapping and arms crossed with a scared looking salesgirl's eyes darting between us.

"No," she growls at me and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Get over it. You," I say and turn to George Hamilton's progeny. "Vanessa," I smile at her name tag. "She will try on every one of those."

She blinks twice at me and ushers a gaping Elena back into the dressing room.

"Did you compel her?" Elena hisses and I start to whistle.

Five minutes, ten, twenty go by, and Elena isn't speaking but the girl in there with her is oohing and awwing over everything, which I'm taking her word for because Elena's not coming out. I guess I'm being served with the silent treatment over the lecture, which would be fine if it weren't so _boring_. But I know I'm just being impatient because I need to get her outfitted and fed and back in the car. When I told her we would be getting in late I don't think she realized that every extra minute we take is pushing us closer to tomorrow's sunrise.

The door finally opens and Elena comes out, swinging a single bathing suit hanger on her finger. And granted it's a hot one, but seriously?

"Where's the rest? And what happened to the girl? Did you eat her?"

"This was fine," Elena shrugs and I push off the wall, poking my head into the dressing room to find Tanning-Fresh rehanging the rest of the clothes.

"Did all that fit her?" I ask and the girl nods. "Good. We're taking it all."

"No way, Damon," Elena says and grabs my elbow, turning me to face her. "I'm not comfortable with this."

I cup the back of her neck and lean my forehead down to hers, my voice low enough that it's only between us. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Elena," I sigh and shake my head, "you should already be comfortable with this. And it really pisses me off that you're not. He should've…" I stop myself and try to control my temper, my pounding heart and the pain in my gums because I've already gone too far.

I can't right his wrongs, but I won't repeat his mistakes either.

Elena's hands slide up to cup my jaw, her thumbs stroking over my cheekbones and I really hope that she can't feel me shaking.

"You don't have to do this, Damon," she whispers and I close my eyes. "But if that's what _you _need, okay."

I kiss her once, too quick for what I want but it'll have to do. "Let's go," I tell her and clear my throat, my arm around her shoulder when we walk up to the counter and toss the single bathing suit up.

"Will that be all?" the girl asks and Elena blushes.

"Not quite, we've got a couple more things coming," I say and turn my back to her, Elena's arms hugged around my waist and I circle mine over her shoulders, my cheek resting to her crown. "Tired?" I ask and she shakes her head no. "Good, because after we eat we've got about eight hours to go, unless you wanna camp here for the night and pick up tomorrow morning."

"Eight hours?" she asks and looks up at me, shocked.

"Yep," I tell her and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"That's too much driving for you," she mutters, frowning at me.

I shrug. "I'm fine."

"What do you want to do?"

"I'd rather get there tonight, but it's your call."

"And you still won't tell me where we're going?" she asks and the girl behind the counter clears her throat. Perfect timing.

I smile at her over my shoulder and release Elena to grab my wallet.

"That'll be-"

"Don't care," I wink at her and she blushes, taking my card with a look to Elena that I can't place, but it makes me stand a little taller all the same.

I don't get why people are always looking at us like that whenever I take her to dinner or pay for something, but it could be worse. Elena fidgets nervously as I sign and put my card back in my wallet, the sales girls handing her four giant bags and I chuckle.

"Should've brought your car for the cargo space," I tease and red flames of embarrassment light up her face.

"Seriously?" she asks like she's disappointed in me and I smile, which was probably not the reaction she was looking for because her gaze turns cold. "You want to buy the whole store? Fine," she says and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"Thanks, maybe I will."

"But then you don't get to make me feel bad about it when I didn't ask for this and I _told _you it made me uncomfortable."

"Elena-" I sigh but don't get any farther before she cuts me off.

"Silly me for thinking you might do something nice for once and just stop there. But there always has to be a joke about it. And at _my_ expense."

"I didn't mean-"

"_No_. This was your brilliant idea, you figure it out," she says and shoves the bags at me, turning to the sales girls. "Sorry you had to put up with him, he's an ass," she says and shoots me one crazy menacing look before stalking towards the exit to the store.

"And you've got a great one," I call after her, turning back to the shocked sales girls and rapping my knuckles twice on the counter. "Thanks, ladies," I tell them and follow after Elena, new wardrobe safely in hand and her wickedly sexy little body strutting away from me.

I catch up to her at the car and manage to get two of the bags in the trunk, placing the other two in the back seat. Elena hasn't said a word, sitting with her arms crossed and my sunglasses on to cover her eyes. Please, don't let her be crying.

I get in the car and she shifts so her back is fractionally more to me, biting her lip.

"Elena," I say quietly, hoping she'll look at me, but she doesn't. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. I was trying to make you feel more comfortable by joking about it. Because that's what I always do and because…yeah, I am an ass."

She shifts back towards me, her hands now in her lap, but she's still staring straight ahead.

I reach over and run a knuckle over the back of her hand and she lets out a deep breath before turning her palm over in an invitation. I take it and slide my fingers through hers.

"I will _try_ to be nicer in the future."

"You're nice all the time," she says softly and looks at me. "I just wish you wouldn't freak out the moment you realize it and then do something to make me forget."

"Who, _me_?" I say innocently and pull a reluctant smile out of her. "Can I make it up to you?"

She shrugs. "You always do."

"That's the spirit," I grin and hook a finger under her chin, lifting a light kiss from her lips.

"Thank you, by the way," she whispers sincerely and my throat clamps closed.

So I steal the sunglasses back and when I put them on, she sucks in a breath in outrage.

I gasp in fake shock, dodging away from her playful swat to my arm. "Buy you dinner?" I grin and she arches her eyebrow before stealing my aviators back.

"And your own sunglasses, jerk."

* * *

After spending way too long at a restaurant because I was busy staring at Elena while she watched the sunset from our table on the deck, the sky basking her in shades of orange and pink that I will never have a name for, we finally, finally decided to keep going after a five minute argument that ended with the promise that I would pull over the second I got tired, even if it meant we were sleeping on the side of the road. Yeah, fat chance of that happening. I'm not sleeping anywhere except the California king sized bed that's waiting for us.

And I am exhausted, but we're not stopping. It probably would have been smarter to just fly down here, but Elena and I do well on the road. And I think we kind of needed it. There's only so much time that she can ignore me when I piss her off before she forgets and it's back to adorably random babbling, and she's still getting that nervous-giggly, can barely look at me without biting her nails thing, but eventually that goes away too and we settle back into normal. Where we're most comfortable. As friends.

And she was right, this whole thing is an adjustment. I'm used to looking and not touching, wondering and never knowing. And there are times when I just wanna stop the car and haul her into the backseat and make love to her no matter where we are, but there are also times when I worry that I'm totally fucking her life up by being selfish and holding onto her. When I wonder if I should take her back.

Right after that is when the fear sets in. That I could screw it up and lose her, push her too far or she'll realize that everyone is right and that she should get out before it's too late. And when I can make myself breathe again, it takes everything I have not to drive to an airport and put us on a plane so we can disappear forever and not just a couple of weeks.

I don't tell her a word of this, but I think she knows. Because when I reach over to hold her hand and squeeze it a little too tight, she covers it with her other like a promise. And sometimes, out of nowhere, she leans over and snuggles into my side, kissing my cheek so tenderly that it feels like we're naked in bed. It's everything I need to keep going, to know that this is right and even though it's sometimes a little awkward and we're learning how to be this with each other, it's where we both want to be and we'll get there eventually.

The craziest thing of all is, I think it may be harder for Elena to make the transition than it is for me. And she is used to me on a daily basis, but she's not used to dating someone who is older. Again, didn't think it would be that big of a deal, but it's creeping up in small ways.

Most of the women I've dated were in their mid to late twenties. They knew who they were and were responsible for only themselves and were used to life being that way. Elena is barely eighteen. She's never lived on her own because she still lives at home with her brother and my alcoholic best friend as a pseudo guardian.

I have no idea how much she's traveled, but I'm starting to suspect the farthest she's ever been from home has been with me. The whole time she and Stefan were together the only place he ever took her was to her family's log cabin and I don't get that at all. He knows his way around the best cities in the world and not once did he ever take her to New York for the weekend or fly them out to San Francisco or even to his beloved Chicago. Nothing. Instead he was determined to be the high school boyfriend and that may be fine for him, but I am not in high school and I don't play that shit.

I ordered us wine at dinner. Didn't even think twice about it. Elena freaked. She finally calmed down after I explained that nobody pays attention to how young she is when she's with me outside of Mystic Falls. And I know it's got her head spinning because they're not looking at her like oh, how sweet, there goes that cute high school cheerleader with her boyfriend. They're asking if we're newlyweds.

I couldn't quite hold my laugh back the first time it happened. Some past-retirement aged guy busted me and Elena making out at the gas pump and she turned three shades of red before ducking off to use the restroom. But I know she heard him when he asked how long we'd been married because she stopped dead in her tracks before her pace picked up to halfway to bolting. Even the skeezy manager at the motel in Savannah asked if me and 'The Missus' had a nice stay when he checked us out.

I wonder if she's going to relay that to her friends when we get home.

She shifts a little closer into my shoulder and I drop a kiss to her hair. Jeremy and Ric called her earlier to check in, and after the conversation started to turn a little less friendly catch-up and more are you sure this is what you want to be doing, I took the phone from her. I far from politely told them we were going to be in Florida for at least two weeks and when she felt like calling them, she would, but other than that to get a life because she deserved a break without being pestered every five minutes, which is why we left in the first place. She was pissed off for a good ten minutes about me "man-handling" her relationships before the tension eased out of her shoulders when she realized they weren't going to bother her again. And then Blondie called.

I told Elena to let it go to voicemail but does she ever listen to me? No. She sat there while Caroline screeched in her ear about how crazy she was and what was she thinking by getting mixed up with me and what about Stefan this and what was going to happen when Stefan that. I was two seconds from repeating my same run down of a fuck off when Elena sat up straighter and cut her off mid-sentence after Barbie had the nerve to ask if I had compelled Elena into this.

I glanced at her face and she had tears running down her cheeks, but she was resolute when she told her best friend to back the hell off. That she'd be back in a few weeks and not to worry about her because she was with me, and she would talk to her when she got home. She hung up and turned her phone off, shoving it in the glove compartment with enough force that I winced. We didn't say anything after that because what was there to say? We both know what's waiting for us in Virginia and it sure isn't a welcome home party.

She wiped at her face as she stared out the window, and she stayed that way for a while because I think she didn't want me to see her cry. But as soon as she hung up her hand found mine, fingers intertwined and locked together fiercely. I kissed the back of her hand when she sniffled because I hate what this is doing to her, but I won't let her go and she's not running away from me either. Her stubbornness is for once playing in my favor because the harder they push, the closer she clings.

She calmed down after a while and we went right back to joking about music and whatever she wanted to talk about before she started to fade, curling into my shoulder like she did last night and falling asleep as I drove. Two more stops for gas and a quiet call to the guy I'm renting the house from to ask that he leave the key under the mat since we were getting in well past midnight, and she snoozed through it all. Girl could probably sleep through a hurricane.

I yawn and rub at my eyes to clear them, and about four hours ago I considered stopping and just calling it a lost cause, but we're so close and if I can get us there without running off a bridge and somehow manage to wake her up enough to appreciate it, we're going to get one hell of a view for arriving when we are. I may be crazy, but I'm crazy with finesse.

Half an hour later and it's almost four A.M., but screw it.

We're _here_.

I pull into the driveway and punch in the gate code, and it opens to reveal exactly what I want to see and it's like a double shot of espresso straight into my veins. I pull up but stop far enough back that we can see the front door, and it looks like the driveway leads to a garage on the side of the house, but I want Elena to see what I'm looking at, not four walls of cement.

I turn off the car and unbuckle us both, her head lolling against my shoulder and I feel a slight twang of guilt for keeping her cooped up so long. But when I glance back at the house it disappears.

I lay a light hand on her hair, brushing it back from where it's fallen forward over her face.

"Elena," I breathe. "You want to wake up?" I ask and she grumbles something before her hand comes up to rub her eyes.

"Damon? What time is it?" she asks quietly around a yawn.

"Really late, or really early," I whisper and she groans.

"Are we stopped?" she asks and tucks her head under my chin like she's hiding in my chest.

"We're here," I tell her with a smile and she yawns again.

"Where's here?"

"Key West," I tell her and she pulls back to peek up at me.

"Key West?" she repeats and I nod towards the house. She turns to look and her eyes widen with her grin as she takes it in.

The two stories, pristine white paint with luscious ivy snaking up the front. A stone pathway carving through a rich lawn, dividing the garden on either side of the steps leading up to the spacious front porch. The windows are large and the few lights on inside reveal soft white curtains, swaying like an invitation. I can't wait until she sees the interior.

"Is that the water?" she gasps when she catches a glimpse of the ocean behind the house, the fading moonlight dancing over the waves.

"Why have a backyard when you can have a beach?" I shrug. "Or if you're really pretty, you can have both," I tell her and when she looks at me, she is completely lit up and I am going to remember this face for a long, long time.

She pulls my mouth to hers and it's all smiles as she kisses me fiercely, and when she pulls away she's practically bouncing in excitement.

"Ready to meet your house?" I ask her and I get another beaming grin.

"Hells yes," she exclaims before she's practically kicking open the door and bounding out of the car.

Thirty-seven hours since we left the boarding house behind, and worth every minute. Because it's Florida, for the win.

* * *

**A/N: Hope this helps, guys. Love you all. Will reply to reviews asap, see you soon. Group hug.**

**-Goldnox**


	4. Sweetest Sunrise, Part 1

**A/N: You all are so amazing, I just don't know where you find the energy to be such total badasses. So because of that, we have a special treat today. DOUBLE UPDATE TUESDAY! Once upon a time this was one long-ass chapter, and then I damn near broke my beta. *hides in shame* No, she is INVINCIBLE! I know this because Trogdor19 is the most kickass dragon of all the dragons and listens to me whine about being a grumbling possessive giant and letting my fluffy DE word vomit flood her inbox on a daily basis when I have chapters to beta for her, and she singlehandedly saved Christmas. Like, three times. In one day. Hetero-lifemate Swoooooooon.**

**And on behalf of DE in this story, we officially welcome you to the destination of our holiday of debauchery (SushiBar said that in a review and that is the funniest shit EVER). Enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Sweetest Sunrise, Part 1**

I step out of the car and Elena is practically vibrating, bouncing on her tip toes on the welcome mat.

"Damon, _come on_!" she whines and I chuckle, stretching as slow as possible with my arms raised above my head before I bring them down, locking my left elbow straight and pulling my arm flat against my chest so my shoulder stretches out, then doing the same with my right. "You going to start doing yoga out there or are you going to open the door?"

"I think I'm gonna check the mail," I tell her and take a step backwards toward the end of the driveway. But she's running and in front of me before I can take another inch away from the door, grabbing my hand and towing me to the house. Which I don't make easy by dragging my feet and leaning my weight back so she has to put more effort into it than she would if I were human.

We finally get to the front door and I shut my grin down before she sees it, cocking an eyebrow at her when she turns and faces me expectantly.

"Where's the key?" I ask her and her face falls, glancing between me and the door and I don't have the heart to push her any further when she's this excited. "Scoot," I tell her and nudge her foot with my boot, and she obediently leaves the mat so I can bend and retrieve the key from under it. Exactly where it's supposed to be. Which is a good because I would have broken the door to get in rather than tell her we would have to leave and come back.

Angel that she is, she wraps her arms around me and hugs my back as I unlock the front door, letting it swing open and then she's off, ducking under my arm to get inside first. She takes two steps inside and stops, and I lean against the doorframe watching her head turn as she takes it in.

The rich oak floors of the entryway bleed down into the plush white carpet of the open living room in front of us, squared off by the second floor's railing on the right, giving a hint to the additional living room upstairs and where the other bedrooms must be. Because there's a door to my left that I'm thinking has to be the master suite, and on my right is the staircase and a dining room, and it looks like the kitchen is behind that, taking up the rest of the first floor. Not too shabby.

Elena steps towards the back wall of the house, pure glass that stretches all the way to the ceiling and grants her a view of the back porch that separates us from the lawn, and eventually the beach. I wonder if she's caught a glimpse of the upstairs deck yet.

She runs a fingertip over the cream colored sofa, peeking at me over her shoulder and I smile and test my foot through the door, and it crosses easily. Off to a good start.

I wink at her and head back out to the car to grab our bags and give her a minute by herself, spinning my car keys around my finger.

We're on the east side of the island so we've got a little over an hour until the sun should rise right over the water and through those windows, and it's going to be the best thing she's ever seen and I can't help the swagger in my walk. The guy told me that half of the pantry was converted into a wine cellar, and to have at it. Based on everything I've seen so far I'm guessing he has pretty decent taste, and God knows I could go for a glass of a decent vintage right now. And I'm not even going to deny, I can't wait to see the kitchen in person because the pictures looked fucking amazing.

I grab our stuff and head back into the house and set everything down in the entryway, carrying the cooler into the kitchen and listening to Elena move around upstairs. I open the subzero and toss the blood bags into the exact kickass refrigerator that I've been eying for the boarding house, and was probably going to end up getting for Elena since I dented hers with Ric's back.

A door opens upstairs and I hear her gasp softly, quiet steps moving towards what I'm guessing is a view of the ocean. I head upstairs and pass two open bedroom doors on my right, finding her in the largest of the three on my left, right where it sounded like she was. I take a minute to observe her standing by the window, one arm hugged around herself and her other hand covering her mouth as she looks outside. I clear my throat and she looks at me, her hand moving away to reveal a wistful smile.

"Hi," she says quietly and I swallow.

"Nice room."

"Yeah," she blushes and looks down, tucking her hair behind her ear. She peeks back up at me and shrugs one shoulder. "Is this okay?"

I tilt my head at her. Is what okay? The room? I glance around and it's spacious, a queen sized bed topped with more pillows than any person would ever need, a cozy armchair in the corner and an oak armoire against the wall.

"The other two are really nice, but this one had the better view…"

And that's when it clicks.

I smile and jerk my head toward the hall in a silent invitation, and when she gets close enough I take her hand and lead her back downstairs.

"Damon, where are we going?" she asks when we hit the landing and I turn to the left, crossing the entryway and heading towards the closed door she must have bypassed completely. I wink at her over my shoulder and open the door to the master suite, and when she sees it her eyes widen before she turns eight shades of red.

"Better room," I smirk at her and head inside to check it out.

The en-suite bathroom is massive, a tub that rivals mine calling my name. But the masterpiece is the bed, twice the size of Elena's and my mind is already spinning with all the fun we're going to have, once I get the ten thousand pillows off it. The comforter and love seat and matching armchair are white and soft, an inviting contrast to the stone gray of the walls that play off the midnight water that's visible through more massive windows.

I flop down on the bed and stretch back, leaving my feet on the floor but still more comfortable than I've been in two days. I pillow a hand behind my hand and hook my opposite thumb towards the glass.

"Better view," I tell Elena, but she's still standing by the door and just looking around curiously. And it's not the same awed look she was wearing upstairs. This is a lot closer to uncomfortable. Definitely nervous. A touch embarrassed. "I think you may actually see it better from _inside_ the room," I try and she shifts her weight, but doesn't leave her post.

What is the deal? Why is she acting like—

_Oh. _

Right.

I sit up and walk over to her slowly, and she looks away when I stop in front of her. I find her hands and lace my fingers through hers so we're palm to palm, and she lets out a deep breath.

"Elena, who's here?" I ask softly and she looks up at me, her brow knitted in confusion.

"What do you mean? It's just us, isn't it?"

"Exactly," I smile at her. "And purely hypothetically, say Blondie and Witchy and the whole raggle taggle Mystic gang came down, where would _they_ stay?"

She purses her lips. "Upstairs," she whispers.

"So where does that leave us?"

She blushes and looks down again, and if she weren't crazy it would be really endearing.

I actually can't believe I didn't see this coming. Wherever she's been, she's probably always slept in guestrooms because her parents always took the master bedroom. And this shouldn't be a big deal, but I guess I understand why it is for her. I just really, really hope she doesn't make us give up this bed.

I make my tone light and teasing when I tell her, "You are queen of the land, so that means you get royal quarters. And if you really want to sleep in the servant's hall, then fine, but I can guarantee you'd be a lot happier down here."

Her eyes dart to my face and she is trying to hide a grin that looks almost guilty.

"Come on, you know you want to," I taunt, my voice low and dripping with promises of things she knows I'll give her as soon as I get her undressed.

I take a step backwards into the room, leading her in with me and she follows timidly. And something about the way she can barely look at the bed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her heart hammering away, is blindingly sexy and it feels like the first time I crossed over her window with a black scarf in my pocket.

I stop and pull her into me, winding an arm around her waist and brushing her hair back over her shoulder. I bend to graze my lips against her neck, lightly teasing her with my tongue and she shivers.

I shift so my breath rushes hot over her ear, my voice gravelly and quiet when I ask, "Did you bring the scarf?"

Her pulse soars, tiny hands gripping my hips and unconsciously tugging them closer to hers.

"Maybe," she says and I can hear the shy smile in her voice. "Aren't you tired? It was a really long drive…"

I growl and grab her ass, and she squeaks around a single little giggle. "Where is it?"

"It's in my bag," she tells me and I lean back to see her eyes before I seal them away.

"Stay," I command and see her swallow. I step around her and her fingertips trail down my arm and over my palm like she wants every second she can get before I'm out of reach. I love when she does that.

It only takes a minute to find the blindfold tucked into its own pocket, like a sexy little stowaway just waiting to be found. I go ahead and bring the rest of our bags back into our room, because I sure as hell am not going to want to do that later. I'm about to be the best kind of busy.

Elena's still where I left her when I set our stuff down, and when she looks at me there's a coy smile lighting up her face while I saunter towards her with the scarf in my hand. She turns to face me completely and my throat closes.

I really want to tell her how glad I am she asked me to stay that night, and I'm dying to ask her why everything changed. I don't want to know how long we would have kept silent if it hadn't. If I would have been able to continue surviving on her touch alone, but starving for her kiss, for her eyes.

I tilt her chin up to me and kiss her softly, slow and sweet and reassuring and thankful, so thankful. But when I pull back there is fire in those eyes, and I know perfectly well that when they are blinded, that fire is going to burn to get free through every other part of her body.

I twirl my finger and she gives me a humoring smile while she rolls her eyes, but she turns around all the same.

"What possessed you to show up that first night?" she asks while I settle the scarf over her eyes. "And with a blindfold, no less?"

"Is that too tight?" I ask while I tie it closed, settling my hands on her shoulders.

"No, it's fine," she tells me, shifting it around a little before she leans back against my chest. I rub my palms down her arms, dropping a kiss to her neck. "And don't think I didn't see you dodge."

"You can't see anything, kinda the whole point." She shifts a little like she's looking at me over her shoulder, her eyebrow arched over black satin, and I sigh. I lock my arms around her and rest my cheek to her temple, my voice a little too hesitant for my liking when I ask, "Do you regret it?"

"Never," she says immediately, strongly, and I smile. She turns in my arms and rests her hands behind my neck, threading her fingers through my hair. "Am I allowed to kiss you?"

Guilt lances through me, and I don't know how I'm ever going to explain that those rules were to protect me, not to punish her.

"Always," I whisper and the corner of her lips turn up before she stretches up on her toes and presses her mouth against mine. She hums her approval at the feeling, her body already strengthening all of her other sensations to make up for her lack of sight. She takes one more taste before she rocks back onto her heels and a blush rises to her cheeks.

I slip my hands under the hem of her shirt, stroking my fingertips over her skin and letting the fabric glide and flutter against her as I lift it slowly.

"Can I ask you a question?" she says bashfully as I carefully pull her shirt off, taking care to keep the scarf in place.

I sink to my knees and rub my cheek against her stomach, her hands woven through my hair and holding me to her. I can't resist leaving one kiss on her skin before I slip off her shoes, delicately undoing the button and zipper on her jeans.

"The first time you did this…" she says quietly, shimmying exotically to help me slide the denim over her hips and down her legs. She steps out of them when I guide her with a light touch to her calf, always responding just how I want her to. "Were you nervous?"

I smile and rise, glad she can't see my face because it would be the only answer she'd need. But she must already know, otherwise she wouldn't have asked.

I take her hand and lay it to my cheek, leaning into her palm before I shake my head no and she laughs softly.

"Liar," she whispers, and I barely nod my yes.

Her smile widens as she strokes her thumb over my cheekbone, and then her hands drift to the collar of my shirt, her fingertips working their way down until she finds the first button and slips it through.

"Were you?" I ask, feeling the curve of her hips and the dip in her lower back as she continues to unhook button after button, her nails lightly tickling my chest and my stomach, and she shrugs one shoulder.

"Of course, it's not like we agreed to go on a date and you showed up on my porch with flowers. You came through my window in the middle of the night and blindfolded me. And the whole time, you never said a word."

"You seemed pretty calm to me. I figured you thought it was a dream," I tease as she slides the fabric over my shoulders and down my arms, letting it drop to the floor.

Another half shrug. "You smell better in real life."

"Oh," I grin haughtily as she unclasps my jeans. "Is that all that's different?" She bites her lip and she's blushing like crazy and I can't resist tickling the spot below her ribs that always steals her breath.

She jumps and giggles adorably, snatching her hands back to protect herself as she turns away from my assault but I've got her locked in my grasp, her back to my chest.

I bend and grip the hook of her bra with my teeth, popping it open and she gasps.

"You did not just do that with your teeth!" she laughs and I nip at her neck, sliding the straps down her arms and tossing her bra away.

I flatten my hand between her hips, pulling them back against mine as I trace the shell of her ear with my tongue.

"Elena," I breathe, "you know perfectly well what I can do with my mouth."

The heady scent of her arousal fills the air and I slip my hand into her panties, swiping a finger against her slick skin. She sucks in a breath as her body jerks and I make myself pull away before I no longer can, dipping my finger into my mouth to taste her. Veins fed by desire trickle around my eyes, and normally I'd control them so I wouldn't scare her, but she can't see and I'm safe to let them show.

"Damon," she whimpers and all my plans of a slow seduction go right out the window. I brush her hair to the side and kiss the back of her neck, squeezing her hip as her body rolls against me.

"Don't move," I tell her and her nod is dazed, my hands steadying her as I step away so she can feel the moment that I'm no longer supporting her weight. She takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back, her hands fidgeting nervously by her sides. "I'm right here," I tell her as I move the armchair so the seat faces away from the foot of the bed, and she relaxes a little more.

"What are you doing?" she asks and I chuckle darkly.

"Redecorating."

A breath of a laugh escapes through her smile and I take her hand and lay it on my chest, rubbing the back of it with my palm.

She squeaks when I hook a fingertip into the front of her panties, and I pull.

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**A/N: SPECIAL TREAT TODAY, FOLKS! Because leaving you on that cliffhanger? Talk about cruel. Head on forward to the second part and get ready for some fun times! And don't be shy about dropping your thoughts on this chapter! Always love to hear them. Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	5. Sweetest Sunrise, Part 2

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**x**

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**FREEZE!**

**If you haven't been reading about Damon and Elena exploring their new dwelling, then hit back a chapter, and let the good times and build up roll.**

**x**

**x**

**x**

**Other than that, have at it, darlings!**

**(beta'd by Trogdor19, a high class addictive substance whose use has not been regulated by the FDA and THANK FUCK FOR THAT)**

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**Chapter 5: Sweetest Sunrise, Part 2**

"Step forward," I tell her and she follows my lead, letting me position her so she's standing facing the bed, between the footboard and the chair behind her. I settle her hands on the fabric and guide her to arch back, feeling the tall back of the chair. I place her palms on the top of the cushion so they're level with her ribs, tightening my hands over hers so she holds on.

She swallows and her pulse speeds up when I let her go, dropping to my knees in front of her. I cup her ankle gently, lifting so her knee hovers over my shoulder until her arch settles on the footboard, opening her up to me and silently praising whatever genius invented cheerleading and made her so wonderfully flexible.

I kiss the inside of her thigh and her heart stutters before it takes off, her breaths shallow and lightning quick.

"Easy," I breathe over her soft skin, watching goosebumps pebble in my wake. I glance up at her and she's arched back, tight nipples fully on display and begging to be teased, and my teeth ache in my gums.

I've never bitten her during sex and she's never asked me to, but _fuck_, do I want to.

I growl in my throat and pause, making sure I'm in control before I touch her.

With my thumb I pet the soaked strip of cotton between her legs, using just enough pressure to feel the slight bump of her clit, the hollow where she's waiting for me to fill her. I nudge her panties to the side and let cool air glide over her skin, calculating my moment based on the rise and fall of her breasts, waiting for her hunger to override the instinctive fear of being exposed.

Her hips rock towards me and I smile: that's my green light, my checkered flag and the starter pistol's trigger squeezed, and the deviant devil on my shoulder smugly whispers, "_Go_."

I flick the tip of my tongue over her clit and she gasps. I wait a moment longer than I know she wants me to, and then it's one long slick line, a rumbled-moan vibrating out of me with my tongue flat over where she's most sensitive, and she curses.

I can't control my grin. I wonder how many times she's held that back in the past. She was always biting her lip, sometimes until it bled, and it's a surge of pride to know that's what she was trying to rein in. But I'd rather hear them, and I want another.

I lightly take her clit between my teeth and I pull. I earn a breathy, "Holy shit," from her as I gently scrape before soothing her with my lips, and she moans at my intimate kiss.

Slowly I start to feel and taste her everywhere, exploring reverently as if it's all new, even though Elena's thigh has been draped over my shoulder many a time. But she is decadent and crazy sexy, and as much as I love being buried inside her, whenever I would fantasize about us it was always, always this.

I slip a finger inside her, needing to feel her heat, and she squeezes me. Girl has incredible muscle control and the best part is, she didn't have that when we first slept together. I'm the only one that has ever benefitted from having her grip so hard it's almost painful, from the way she can tighten in a measured roll up my shaft that makes me instantly blind with lust. I never last when she does that and she knows, so she waits until I'm almost there before she purposefully blows the lid off my restraint.

And I know she wants another finger but I don't want to stretch her too much, too soon. I'm notoriously greedy, and I want to save that for my cock. But I curl my finger inside her and pet her front wall, flicking over her clit with my tongue and she forgets all about what I'm not giving her. Her panting of, "_Oh my God_…" tells me everything I need to know, and it only spurs me on more.

Because I want her to _scream_.

I pull out and she makes a sound like she's catching her breath, which is perfect because I'm about to do something to her that I've never dared before. I dip my tongue inside her and her whole body flinches as she squeaks my name. Smoothly, I stroke into her, reaching up to find her hand and lacing my fingers through hers. She clings to me tightly, the tension in her body instantly loosening from the familiar promise.

I twirl and search and ease her into feeling me, and when her hips begin to roll and sink to my mouth with confident need, I start rubbing her clit with the pad of my thumb.

"I…I _can't_," she gasps and I know she's nervous, but there's nothing she needs to fear. I want this, have waited for this, and I'm not going to stop until she gives it to me.

I circle her again and she trembles, but she's holding back and I damn well know it.

"_Come_," I beg her, my voice gritty and full of a sinful authority that she's felt, but never heard, and I plunge again.

And this time, she lets go.

Her scream rips through the house as I drink her down, her fingernails scratching the back of my hand and her others woven through my hair and holding me to her, her legs quivering and wanting to buckle and it's all free and wild, beautifully-reckless submission.

Until she starts to fall.

She pushes harder against the bed and the chair she's leaning on slides, and if it wasn't for our hands locked together I might have lost her completely. But my arm shoots out and wraps around her waist, pulling her back towards me so when she crashes, she is thankfully straddled across my lap.

"I've got you," I rush out as I wrap her in my arms, because I don't think she's breathing yet: still in shock and overwhelmed from her orgasm, and just an absolute overload of adrenaline and endorphins blasting through her system.

Her body spasms as air rushes out of her and over my shoulder, her head turning to find comfort in the hollow of my neck where she fits.

I glide my fingertips up and down her back as she tries to catch her breath, panting gasps eventually smoothing into deep draws of air, her thundering heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm that feels like home.

"What happened?" she asks quietly after a few minutes, but she still sounds breathless and dazed and I stroke a hand down her hair.

"You took my instructions more literally than I anticipated," I tease.

"Huh?"

"You tried to fall," I tell her. "Always gotta be testing my reflexes."

"Hmm…" she murmurs, her body relaxing further into mine as her arms hug me more securely, nuzzling her nose into my neck. "God, that was…"

"Intense?"

"Yeah," she breathes.

"We aim to please," I say with a smug smile that she can't see, but she still groans.

"I'm too tired to smack you right now, but I would if I could."

"Violent _and_ ungrateful? What am I going to do with you?"

She snuggles closer. "Put me in bed so I can go to sleep."

A laugh ripples through my chest and I hold her tighter. "Can't sleep yet, I want to show you something." She whimpers poutily and I _almost_ give in. "But if you're a real good girl and humor me for a few more minutes, I'll let you sleep soon."

"How soon?"

"Thirty minutes, maybe less."

"Ugh," she grumbles and I smile.

"Thatta girl. Come on, hellcat. Up you go," I say and help her off my lap so she's standing in front of me. I rise just as she starts to reach for the scarf, and I stop her.

"Da_mon_," she whines.

"Ele_na_," I mimic back and I'm sure if I could see her eyes, she'd be rolling them.

But I can't so I ignore it.

I take her hand and lay it on my chest, her other on my hip so she can feel when I start slowly walking backwards towards the door, and she comes with me.

"You're still wearing your jeans?" she asks as soon as she feels the denim.

"Yeah, and what does that tell you?" I tease and she blushes, still letting me lead her from the bedroom and into the entryway.

"Damon-"

"It's fine," I assure her, turning us so we're walking through the living room. "But if you really feel guilty about it, you can make it up to me later."

"You sure?" she asks meekly.

"That you can attack me in a sexual frenzy anytime you want? Absolutely."

I get a smile from her and that's all I want, but when she gives me a decisive nod to go with it, I nearly turn us around and head back into the bedroom. But I really, really want her to see this more than I want to satisfy my hard-on, and it wouldn't kill me to get a drink in my system with a decent kick to it.

I stop us by the stereo and turn it on, the hidden speakers softly slipping out the first chords of "Bittersweet Faith"*i and I smile. I'm gonna buy this fucking house, swear to God.

I lift Elena's hand from my chest and hold it up, twirling her under my arm and she giggles quietly as she comes back around.

"And you're really going to stick to the story that you weren't ever a dancer?" she grins as I start leading us into the kitchen, admittedly with more sway than before, and in perfect time to the music.

"I never said I wasn't a dancer, just that it wasn't what I held a degree in," I correct and her shoulders shake with laughter.

"Does that mean I get to call you twinkle toes?"

"Not if you ever want a repeat of the last hour."

She pouts her bottom lip out and I have to wonder if Elena has any idea just how much she's got me wrapped around her finger. Luckily, I'm saved from even considering her absurd request when her pout pulls into a shocked smile, squealing in surprise as she steps onto the kitchen tile.

"Cold!"

"Wimp," I taunt and she purses her lips, probably glaring at me under the scarf.

"Thanks a lot, Michael Flatley."

I laugh and boost her up onto the island, steadying her before I step away and as if it's a reflex, she crosses her arms and legs while tossing her hair. The picture of righteous indignation, while topless and blindfolded and still smelling like sex. I shake my head and walk into the pantry, whistling my appreciation at the collection of rare vintages all ripe for the taking.

I spend too long perusing and finally grab a bottle, snagging a bar of imported dark chocolate from the other half of the walk in on my way out. I bust Elena peeking out of her blindfold when I come out and lightly smack her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

"What were you doing in there?"

"Shopping," I tell her as I hunt a wine glass and a corkscrew, and her head tilts at the sound when I pop the cork out after finding both.

"Shopping, right," she scoffs and shakes her head. "Maybe one day I'll learn to speak 'Damon.'"

"Think you're doing just fine," I say with a smile as I pour the cabernet.

I take a drink and _Jesus_, I haven't had wine this good in years. She's in for a treat. I open the chocolate and break off a chunk, and when I pop it into my mouth it's a dark explosion of flavor, mellowing the richness of the wine. I almost consider not sharing with her, it's that fucking good.

I take another sip with an appreciative moan as I walk over to Elena, setting the chocolate down beside her. "Okay, so I really should have let this breathe, but you have no appreciation for wine anyways so it's all the same to you."

"Ass!" she says and kicks at me, but I dodge.

"Hey, careful," I reproach before I smirk. "You almost spilled it."

"Would it kill you to be sweet to me?" she snipes and I tilt my head.

"Probably." She mutters something under her breath but I ignore it and reach for her hand, wrapping it around the glass and swirling it just the littlest bit. "Breathe it in, gently," I tell her with a tender pitch to my voice that's reserved for her alone. She does as I ask and inhales the scent, letting the aroma of oak and berries and spice wash over her. "Now, when you take a sip, just hold it over your tongue for a moment to search out the flavors."

"I know how to drink wine, Damon," she says harshly and I raise my hands in surrender.

"My mistake, I didn't realize they swapped geography class for lessons in how to be a sommelier at Mystic Falls High, home of the wino Timberwolves."

"I know geography!"

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sure you know…something," I say in a placating tone and step back from the look her mouth is giving me.

"Take that back," she growls.

"Drink that wine or I'll take _that_ back."

"You know, one day that jerk mouth of yours is-"

"Elena," I interrupt. "Drink, the wine."

She scowls at me and huffs, and I cross my arms, prepared to wait out her stubbornness. It doesn't take long.

When she's good and ready she takes a sip, her eyebrows rising at the taste. "Wow," she says appreciatively, licking her lips. "That's even better than what we had at dinner."

"Yeah," I confirm, taking the glass from her. "About two hundred dollars better."

"It is not!" she exclaims with a guilty grin and I chuckle, breaking off a piece of chocolate.

"There once was a poet," I say and clear my throat, my voice introspective and serious. "And in his brilliant words, I believe he said, 'Open your mouth and close your eyes, and you'll get a _big_-' Well, your eyes are already closed but you get the idea."

"You're disgusting," she tells me, but she's barely able to contain her smile.

I take her hand and turn it over, laying the section of chocolate I broke off for her in the heart of her palm.

"What's that?" she asks.

"A beetle."

"_Oh my God_!" she shrieks and arms and legs are flailing, chocolate is flying and I have no idea where it landed and when I jumped back out of her way, I actually spilled wine on my jeans and the floor.

"Really, Elena?" I sigh.

"Why did you do that?" she screeches as I get a dishrag to mop up the floor.

"You really thought I would give you a bug?" I ask her, toeing the cloth over the wet spot and she crosses her arms.

"Maybe."

"Yeah, 'cause I keep beetles in my back pocket next to my invisible crayons and glitter nail polish."

She covers her mouth with her hands to hide her laugh.

I toss the dishrag in the sink. "Laugh it up, because you don't get any more wine since you made me spill it."

"Guess those reflexes aren't what we thought they were, huh?" I bite my cheeks against my grin and my silence must tip her off, because she laughs and holds her hands out to protect herself. "Don't tickle me! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you're super vamp with spidey senses, I swear!"

"Mm-hmm."

She twirls a section of hair around her finger, biting her lip with a curious smile. "What was that really?"

"Guess you'll never know," I say and she pouts on cue. I roll my eyes and break off another piece of chocolate. "Not a bug," I say sternly before I give it to her and she smiles again.

She sniffs at it and wrinkles her nose.

"It's chocolate, Elena."

"Oh." She takes a bite and stops dead still, her hand moving to cover her mouth before she mumbles, "Oh my _God,_ that's good."

"See what happens when you trust me?" I tease, passing her the wine when she holds her hand out for the glass.

She takes a sip and swallows with a moan. "Your fault, you lied."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Touché," I say quietly and she fistpumps like she's proclaiming victory. I snatch the wine back from her and take one more bite of chocolate before wrapping it up. "Okay, we gotta go," I say around a full mouth and hook an arm around her waist to help her down.

"Where are we going?"

"Are you going to trip going up the stairs and make me spill wine on the carpet, or do you need me to carry you?"

"I vote for option three: lose the scarf."

"Not on the list, sorry," I say and bend to drape her over my shoulder. And bless her sweet little heart, she doesn't even protest anymore.

"Why are we going to the 'servant's quarters' anyways?" she asks halfway up the stairs, and when I don't answer, she sighs. "I think my legs are going to atrophy," she mutters and I scoff.

"Not with the way you ride, girl."

"What is that supposed to- Damon!"

I take a sip of wine to hide my laugh, walking through the upstairs living room and heading to the door of the deck up here. I set Elena down and when I unlock the door, she freaks.

"Are you crazy!" she hisses and yanks herself out of my grasp. "I'm not going outside naked!"

"You're not naked," I tell her and snap the band to her panties. "And do you think I would parade you around where people can see you? Give me a little credit."

"Nuh-uh, no way, not happening."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, stay there." I grab a throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap it around her shoulders. "Better?" I ask and she nods, adjusting the blanket like the some sort of shawl.

I lead her out onto the covered back deck, and the side railings are chest-high solid wood for privacy, but the one facing the water is low and with wide slots so the view isn't impeded at all. There's a bar-height table and some stools, but there are also two chaise lounge chairs set up and that's exactly what I want.

I sit on one and set down the glass of wine, guiding Elena to join me and it takes some maneuvering, but I eventually get us comfortable. Reclining back with my knees propped up on either side of her as she leans against me, I rest my arm over her shoulder and her death grip on the blanket loosens enough to hold my hand. I drop a kiss to her hair and smile. There's no way I could have timed this better.

"Can I please take off the scarf now?" she asks and I squeeze her hands before I leave them behind. She sits up a bit so I can gently untie the knot, slipping the scarf off and dropping it to the deck.

Elena gasps.

"Oh _wow_," she whispers.

Her head settles back onto my chest so she's tucked under my chin and I hug my arms around her, leaning my cheek to her crown. It's perfect. The night is pulling back behind us and navy blue is bowing to soft pink and gold and purple, the new day painting the sky as it brings the water to sparkling life.

We end up staying quiet for a long time as we watch the dawn, sharing the rest of the wine and just happy to be close, to be here, together.

"You planned this, didn't you?" she asks quietly after a while.

I squeeze her a little tighter. "You can't prove anything," I breathe back playfully, catching a hint of her smile.

"Yes, I can."

I press a kiss into her hair, and she covers my arms with hers.

"Thank you, Damon. For everything," she tells me sweetly. "I'll never forget this."

I smile and close my eyes, absolutely at peace with having Elena in my arms, my world filled with the sound of her heartbeat and splashing waves, the heat of her skin and smell of her hair, the first touch of warmth from the rising sun settling over me.

I want to tell her that I'll never forget this either, to thank her for having faith in me. I fall asleep before I get the chance, but there's always tomorrow.

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**Bittersweet Faith by Bitter:Sweet**

_you tube dot com /watch?v=k30_3FHb4_c_

_No regrets_  
_Everything will work out fine_  
_We'll hold our breath_  
_Wait for another sign_  
_I've tasted_  
_Your bittersweet faith_  
_My heart aches for you_  
_I'm taking_  
_A moment to say_

_Everything I do_  
_I do for you_  
_I do it all for you_

_Lay your sweet_  
_Tears across my broken dream_  
_Don't you speak_  
_A word about the past_  
_You'll need more than I'll ever give_  
_I can't lie to you_  
_I love you_  
_My angel, my sin_

_Everything I do_  
_I do for you_  
_I do it all for you_  
_Anything, anything for you_

_Are we moving in the right direction_  
_What is fate if fate's immersed in shame_  
_A high price for the beauty of perfection_  
_I go when all I want to do is stay_

_I do for you_  
_I do it all for you_  
_Anything, I do it all for you_  
_Anything for you_

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**A/N: So guys, how we feeling? I'm jealous, I want to be in that damn house lol. Cannot thank you all enough for the support and the love. **

**Often, stories are very personal and your life seeps into them. This one is a little more so. When I was a fresh-faced 18 year old Goldnox, I met a handsome and world-altering, _much older_, Mr. Goldnox and holy hell, talk about a change from dating high school guys to a man. Like, a real man. Cray cray. So a lot of little details are things that I had to confront. Being asked if we're married. Possibly underage drinking at restaurants. (what?) Staying in a master bedroom for the first time. *face palm* And yeah, I married the fuck out of him. He is stupid supportive of all that I do and a recent addict to TVD, he thinks Damon is the coolest mother fucker ever and Stefan is a douchebag with bad hair, he tells Caroline to stop crying because it breaks his heart, and is totally hetero, but says if he ever wanted a man it would be Alaric. And now he's taken to growing a scruffy stubble. FUCK. YEAH. And after we watch TVD he fixes stuff. Like, with tools and everything. SWOOOOON. So, thanks, to my Sexy Mexy, my lovey, and my best friend: my husband. Because you rock my socks off. In all the ways. **

**See you guys next chapter!**

**-Goldnox**


	6. The Right Reasons

**A/N: So, I'm pretty sure that every single one of you reading and reviewing has all the good karma points imaginable after all the love you sent me and my husband after the last two chapters. Y'all are the best :)**

**Trogdor19! You are so super incredible, even when you are making me re-write certain passages multiple times because you're always freaking right! I hope, hope, hope that I continue to make you proud and am so thankful that you are always there to kick my ass into the next level when I get lazy. Because lordy, do I get that way ;) And the moose is being so stubborn! GAH!**

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**Chapter 6: The Right Reasons**

The silver-speckled Arabian takes the last hesitant step off the bank before lunging into the chest-deep water, Elena's laugh bursting out of her as she leans back more securely into my chest. I smile and tighten my arms around her, one hand flat on her stomach and the other braided in the mane of the mare. Cool water slides up our legs and over my back, beginning to tickle my shoulders as the mare's body swims powerfully and gracefully beneath us. The Arabian falters as her hooves search for purchase on the wet sand sifting below and she balks at what lies ahead, but I urge her forward. I close my eyes just before she weaves through the curtain of water in front of us, and Elena whispers my name.

The water pours down my body like a caress, but it's faster than what I expected. It's roaring with speed from tumbling over rocks above us, and even as it crashes onto my shoulders, it's soothing. I tilt my head back and run a hand through my hair, relishing the massage of the mist and the grain of the sand under my feet. I open my eyes when I realize our mount is gone, but relieved to find Elena watching me with a patient smile. It widens to a beam just before I kiss her, my arms curling around her protectively, because even though the pressure from the waterfall feels like heaven to me, her skin is delicate and sensitive and soft, and I don't want it to hurt her. But she doesn't seem to notice the sting on her hands as they slide up my back with the lightest of touches, threading into my hair. And somehow with my mouth still pressed against hers, I hear over the sound of the water as she whispers my name.

I take a step and reach for the rock wall behind her, but my hand sinks into smooth grains of sand. I open my eyes and we're lying on the beach, Elena's legs wrapped around me and she tightens them, pulling me deeper inside of her. My eyes squeeze shut with a moan and a wave crashes behind us, the surf rushing up and over our bare skin before it draws gently back. Her hands cup my jaw and guide my mouth back to hers as another wave breaks, stronger with the coming tide. It runs up my legs and over my shoulders, beginning to slip through the strands of my hair as Elena whispers my name.

I shift and I can smell her skin, hear the steady rhythm of her pulse, feel the heat of her leg wound around mine. I test my hand and it curls, my fingertips petting soft fabric and something that feels like a band of lace underneath. Her palm flattens on my back before she lightens her touch to a tease of her nails, stroking up and down my spine and dancing over my neck before she tenderly massages my scalp.

"Damon," she whispers as her lips touch my temple. "It's time to wake up."

My eyelashes flutter as they try to open and she laughs quietly.

"That tickles," she breathes and I smile.

I find my arm draped over her waist, my palm pressed into the t-shirt that's covering her lower back. I snuggle further into the soft skin of her neck and she's still caressing me, her body curled protectively around mine. I don't think there's ever been a better way to wake up.

"Are you going back to sleep?" she asks and I pull her closer.

"What time is it?" My voice is rough and crackly, and I clear my throat.

"It's almost three."

I lift my head to look around, and we're in the bed in our room, the sun blaring through those damn windows.

Wait, how are we in here? The last thing I remember was being on the deck…

"Did you say _three_?" I ask Elena, and she smiles sweetly at me.

"You were kinda exhausted," she says softly and brushes the hair back from my forehead. "Do you remember us coming back in here this morning?"

My mind is still fuzzy with sleep, and all I remember is closing my eyes while watching the sunrise. I yawn and shake my head, holding her leg in place over my hip as I resettle onto my back.

_Fuck_, this bed is comfortable.

I stroke my fingertips up her thigh as she settles into the pillow next to me, and when she tucks her hands under her cheek, the hem of _my_ t-shirt she's wearing pulls up so the band of her cream-colored panties peeks out.

First order of business today? Burning all her clothes so she's always naked or wearing mine.

"Sorry I slept so late," I say and she shrugs.

"You needed it, too much driving."

"Worth it," I tell her and when I lightly squeeze her thigh, she blushes. "You should have woken me earlier."

"I tried," she grins. "About one o'clock I thought you were ready to join the waking world, but you just started grumbling at me in German or something."

"Couldn't have been German," I frown and shake my head. "Usually it's Latin. Sometimes Aramaic. The occasional Polish pops out, but never German."

Her smile stretches so wide I swear it's brighter than the daylight.

"You want some coffee?" she asks and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"_You_ made coffee?"

"Well, _somebody_ had to."

"Is it safe for consumption?" I tease and she bites her lip before she shrugs one shoulder.

"Guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Coffee sounds great," I smile and she burrows deeper into the pillow. I move to get out of bed, and her hand on my chest stops me.

"Stay," she tells me. "I'll get it."

I blink at her a few times, because I am not quite sure what to do here. It would be more chivalrous for me to go get it and bring it back for her. That I know how to do. What I _don't_ know is how to be comfortable with her doting on me. People don't do that shit. That's not how this works.

"You sure?" I ask and I feel like an ass for even saying it. I should have just gotten up.

"Yes," she beams and leans over to plant a quick kiss on my lips. "I'll be right back."

She pops up out of bed and there's a giddy-lightness to her step as she crosses by the foot of the bed, tucking her hair behind her ear before she flashes me one more smile and then practically skips out of the room.

What the hell was that?

I scrub a hand over my face and through my hair, resituating the pillows behind me so I'm sitting up comfortably, leaning against them. My head falls back to the headboard as I wait.

This is so fucking weird. No wonder she gets all flustered every time I do this stuff for her. I'm not going to stop, but I have a newfound respect for the grace she lends to it because Christ, do I feel guilty. And it's just _coffee_.

I wince as I think about the spat when we went clothes shopping yesterday. No wonder she got so upset.

The microwave beeps and the door to it opens and closes. Did she just microwave coffee? And how strange is it that I almost hope she did, because I'll feel less bad if that's what she's bringing me? Like it's okay for her to serve me in bed, as long as it's gross?

I shake my head. There's definitely something wrong with me. I need her to come back in here so I can think straight.

I stretch and my eyes sweep over the room, and it takes me a second to realize that the chair we were having fun with last night is back in its original spot, and our bags aren't where I left them.

Please, don't tell me she did all this while I was passed the fuck out.

She shouldn't have had to—

"Hey," she smiles at me, cutting off my train of thought as my head whips towards her voice, a steaming mug in each of her cute little hands as she strolls back into the room. I smile back at her and prop a knee up under the comforter.

When exactly did she get my jeans off?

She hands me a mug with a timid grin before she climbs into bed, and the smell slaps me in the face.

That's not coffee.

I stare at it, staggered.

"Something wrong?" she asks innocently and takes a sip from her cup.

"Elena…" I start and clear my throat, because we haven't talked about this.

"Did you not want blood? You haven't had any for a while. This is coffee," she says casually and holds her mug out to share.

"No, this is fine," I assure her.

"Then what's wrong? Is it too hot? Should I have just brought you a blood bag? I don't-"

"Elena," I stop her, because she's starting to get that embarrassed did-I-do-something-wrong look and that's the absolute last thing I want her to think. "It's okay. It's just…you don't like it when I drink blood in front of you."

"What?" she asks and her eyebrows lock down. "Says who?"

"Says the last time you interrupted dinner and stared at my glass like it was Channing Tatum, naked."

Her face smoothes and the corner of her lips turn up. "Is that why you never drink it in front of me?" She sounds like she wants to laugh, but is too nervous to actually do it.

I don't answer and she nods once.

"Okay. Damon… God, this is embarrassing," she mutters and glances down with a blush. But she takes a deep breath and makes herself look back at me. "I was staring because I wondered if it tasted different in a glass than from a blood bag because of the plastic. Like how Coke tastes a little different if it's in a bottle or a can or a glass or whatever. Caroline always drinks out of blood bags but you never do, at least that I've seen, and I was curious."

"Seriously?" I chuckle and her eyes dart down to the comforter. "I'm not laughing at you," I correct gently. "I'm just surprised."

"You really thought you had to hide it from me?" she asks apologetically and warmth spreads through my chest.

"Not _hide_, just not shove it in your face. You're more comfortable with thinking of me as a human," I supply and take a deep pull from my mug.

The moment it touches my lips it's like every nerve gets set on fire and the scent of Elena's skin is blaring in vivid colors, with the lotion she must have put on and how it's mixing with the fabric softener lingering on my shirt. And I can hear _everything_: a seagull calling outside, but far away. Waves breaking and sand sifting and the compressor for the refrigerator turning on in the kitchen. Every ripple and squeeze of the arteries in her heart.

"That's not true," she says seriously and I let black veins appear, but only long enough to hear her pulse spike.

"Mm-hmm," I murmur and take another deep pull, trying to finish as quickly as I will allow myself so I can clean the cup and brush my teeth, and she can dutifully go back to forgetting that I will always look exactly the same, no matter how many years go by and change her along with them.

Elena shifts and sets her mug down on the bedside table, and when she turns back to me, she hesitantly takes mine as well like she's a little afraid that I'll attack her for prematurely separating me from my addictive life source. I hand it to her with a wink, and lacing my hands behind my head I have to remind myself not to tease her about it.

When both the dark coffee and red blood are safely away from white bedding, she sits up on her knees, faintly dancing her fingertips over my hip and something very close to excitement is in her eyes.

"Can you do that again?" she whispers and I bite my cheeks against a grin.

The only time I've ever willingly let her see them is the morning of the Sun and Moon sacrifice when I bit into my wrist, forcefully giving her my blood. She may have caught a glimpse of them when I was delirious from the werewolf bite, but I'm not sure.

I reach out to take her hand that's now just resting against my stomach, stroking my fingertips over the pulse in her wrist and I let blood rush into my eyes. The edge of my vision hones in on the subtle throb of the vein in her neck, even though I keep my gaze trained on hers. I wait as she sucks in a tiny breath, dim traces of fear and a heavy sense of arousal flooding the room.

I have no idea how much Stefan may have exposed her to this, and I don't really want to think too much about it. I'd rather assume it's just me that's making her respond this way. Because she's never shown any of the signs that come from having a vampire fetish, apart from dating them, but she's been getting turned on by me a lot longer than she wants to admit.

"Have you ever wanted to bite me?" she asks quietly, her voice a breathy little pant that matches the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest.

"Yes," I tell her honestly and she swallows. "But out of bloodlust? Not for a long time."

Her head tilts as she considers that, her eyes still stroking over the veins below my eyelashes that are fluttering under her request. "The night that Vickie died?" she confirms and I nod. "I was bleeding, and you told me to go…"

I bring her hand up and press a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist before I lay her palm on my cheek, breathing deeply the bouquet of her blood. "Things were a little more complicated then." I wink and a huff of a laugh escapes her.

"Things have always been complicated, Damon."

"True," I say and lay our hands down on the bed between us, caressing the back of hers with my thumb.

She bites her lip against a grin and narrows her eyes at me, blushing spectacularly. "Was that the only time?"

"Nope," I tell her confidently.

She licks her lips and shifts her hips a little, like how she's always crossing and re-crossing her legs when she's turned on in public and doesn't want to act on it because there are people around us. But my body instantly recognizes the action and now it's my pulse that kicks into high gear, my eyes darkening even further.

"Do you…do you want to do it a lot?" she asks meekly and I smirk.

"How often do we have sex?" I answer and she drops her head so her hair falls forward to hide her blush. She knows as well as I do that since we started sleeping together, there hasn't been a day that's gone by that hasn't ended with us being intimate in one way or another. "Elena?" I say softly and she peeks up at me. "I would never do that without your permission," I tell her and she nods.

"I know."

She's quiet for a minute and I have to ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Have you wanted me to bite you?"

Her smile grows but she's trying to contain it, looking incredibly guilty. "Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes." And I will forever praise the gifts bought by open communication.

"Would it hurt?"

I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Only for a moment. And then it's going to feel _really_ good."

"Why…" she starts and trails off, as though she's swallowing her words. I give her a minute to see if she's going to continue, but she's stalled. Until she hits me with, "Why didn't it feel good when _other_ people bit me?"

My heart slams in my chest, my fangs aching to butcher and shred anyone who's ever had their teeth in her skin. They should all be eternally grateful they are so fucking far away from me right now.

But I can't be this upset around Elena when I'm letting my demon dance on the surface. I blow out a slow, controlled breath, and I know it tips her off because she looks away when she whispers, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

I swallow and rein in the predator, clearing my eyes and blunting the small points of my teeth that slipped out.

"Hey," I say and gingerly turn her face back to me, stroking my thumb over the curve of her jaw. "If there's something you want to ask me, you ask."

"Okay," she agrees quietly.

"Those other times…" I stop and shake my head, trying to forget the image of her limp body after Klaus drained her during the sacrifice. I can still feel her lifeless weight in my arms, and it's nauseating. "It would be different with us because we would do it for the right reasons. Which is why it hasn't happened."

Her brow furrows. "But, I thought you-"

"When _you're_ ready," I stop her. "And if that's something you never want to do, then that's fine. There are plenty of other ways that we can have fun with our teeth." I wink at her but I don't get even a hint of a blush.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I say seriously. "I bit you last night and you definitely seemed to enjoy it."

"Damon! That is not what I meant," she says with an embarrassed laugh.

"C'mere," I tell her and she snuggles into my side, letting me wrap her in my arms. I squeeze her tight and take a deep breath, feeling her relax along with me. "Elena," I pause and clear my throat, "there's something I want to ask you and I want you to be honest when you answer, okay?"

I feel her nod and the arm she has draped over my chest tightens a tiny bit more.

"Who told you that you were allowed to wear my clothes? Or any clothes, for that matter?"

She snickers and leaves a chaste kiss on my chest. "You forfeited the right to complain about my wardrobe when you refused to wake up."

"Well, I'm awake now, and I say it's time to get naked."

"I'm sure you do," she says patronizingly. "Oh, before I forget, don't freak out but your jeans are ruined from the wine because I couldn't get the stain out, and that is totally not my fault. And I hung up your shirts, but all your stuff is wrinkled from being left in your bag. I looked for an iron but I couldn't find one, so we'll have to find a dry cleaners."

I smile and pull my fingers through her hair. "Busy bee. You remember to paint the garage door too?"

Elena shrugs. "You're picky about your clothes. To the point that I think you may need therapy over it."

"I am not that bad," I chuckle and she props her chin on my chest to arch an eyebrow at me. "Okay, fine. But it's no worse than you and your socks."

"Oh, please. That doesn't even begin to compare."

"Based on the rest of your lingerie you should be wearing flirty little things with hearts and bows on them in every tempting color of the rainbow. And instead, it's shock-white ankle-cut made by Danskin. What did Hanes ever do to you?"

"You know what? It is really hard to find socks that won't slide down into the arch of your feet when you run. And before you even say it, the _only _people that like tube socks are kindergarten teachers."

I burst out in laughter. "Why kindergarten teachers?" I ask and she rolls her eyes at me.

"Sock puppets."

"I'm pretty sure that's what teenage boys use them for too."

"Gross!"

"You started it," I grin and she shivers in disgust. "Come on," I purr. "Say 'sock puppet' again."

"You need help. Like serious, professional help."

"So let's get you a clipboard and some heels and nothing else, and I'll lay on the couch and tell you all my _dirty_ secrets while you 'help' me."

"Keep dreaming, Damon."

"I _was_ dreaming until you woke me up, and they were damn good dreams too. I deserve to be compensated for that," I say smugly.

She bites her lip and a look I don't recognize flashes through her eyes, and whatever it was, it makes me instantly hard. It only intensifies when she slides her foot up and down the inside of my leg, bumping her knee innocently against my erection.

"Is that right?" she says and draws a circle on my chest with her fingertip.

Fuck yes.

I stay very still as she leans down and kisses my skin sensually, her hair pooling on my stomach while her tongue teases me.

My eyes close and I have no idea how far she's willing to take this little game, but I am happy to be along for the ride.

She scoots a little further up my body and kisses my cheek, trailing her lips to my jaw and my neck, and I moan throatily when her palm slides down my stomach and under the sheet.

Her fingers wrap around me and my body jerks, her breath hot over my skin as she whispers, "And how exactly do you want to be _compensated_?"

"That works pretty well," I tell her in a daze of lust and she squeezes me.

All the fuck yes. Someone's been a good boy this year.

"Well then," she says huskily, and I swallow. "Let me go find you a sock puppet."

My eyes pop open as Elena leaps from the bed, her giggle floating out behind her. I give her a second and then I'm up, blurring through the dining room so I'm waiting hidden as she runs in a mad dash to the kitchen. I dip and catch her mid-step, and her legs are around my waist before she ever saw me.

"Cheater!" she yells as I start walking us back to the bedroom.

"You are in a world of trouble," I growl playfully.

"I think any world with you in it _is _a world of trouble," she grins and tightens her arms around my neck.

"You know what happens to bad little girls that steal people's clothes and tease dangerous vampires?"

"They get to play the sock puppet?" she says wickedly and nips at my bottom lip. I groan and she scrapes her teeth roughly over the curve of my shoulder.

"Bite me again, and I'll bite you back," I warn and her lips move to hover over my ear.

"Promise?" she whispers and I bypass the bed, heading for the shower.

"Why don't you try that again and find out?" I taunt, and I shiver when she makes another pass over my skin with her teeth.

My knees nearly buckle at her invitation and the only thing running through my mind is how good she smells, what she's going to taste like. How much I need it, and right fucking _now_.

I unwind her legs and set her down a little more roughly than normal, and her chest is heaving when I reach in and turn on the hot water.

"Strip," I command, turning back to her and her eyes widen.

And even though I told her to do it, it's my hands that are ripping the shirt up and over her head and drawing her panties down her long legs. I pick her back up and she doesn't protest to wrap her legs around me, but she's trembling.

It stops me right in my tracks because I know every decibel of her shakes and quivers, and this is not anticipation born of desire.

This is an emergency siren of blind panic.

I smile comfortingly and my mouth is soft against hers when I step us into the shower, warm water flowing down all around us from the jets in the ceiling. I cup her face in one hand, massaging my fingertips into her wet hair as I kiss her with every ounce of raw affection that I feel, and she calms a little more but her heart is still pounding. And when I carefully lean her up against the tile wall, her head falls back and eyes squeeze shut, tilting so her neck is bared to me.

I take her chin under my thumb. "Look at me," I whisper and when she does, I pull a kiss from her lips. "Not until you're ready," I promise and she takes a deep breath, nodding.

Her hands find rest on either side of my neck, stroking her thumbs over my jaw when she touches her forehead to mine. "Thank you," she breathes and something inside me hurts that she feels she has to say it at all.

I lean a little more securely against her, brushing her hair back and just adoring her slowly, letting her feel both my immortal strength and my humanity so she knows that I will never let anyone hurt her. Not even me.

Only when she's truly ready do I enter her more gently than I ever have in the past, waiting until she adjusts around me before I go deeper. And when I am fitted I pause, taking time to kiss and hold her, determined that she feels safe and in control of what happens to her body.

So I let her lead me.

She's always preferred it when I'm a little more dominant. It took some time for her to really gain her confidence, before she was comfortable directing me to what she craved. And I knew she wanted to, but I had to be a little creative in getting her to recognize it in herself because we never spoke. So I taught her to guide me by touch alone.

I would lay my hands on her stomach and cover them with hers, and I wouldn't move until she did it for us. She'd always start by sliding my palms over her breasts, and that's where my mouth would go until she repositioned us. It took even longer before she would take what she wanted from my body, having me be still and completely at her mercy to do what she pleased. It's only recently that she's started to ask for control, and sometimes, take it whether I offered it to her or not.

But I want her to have it now, and she knows it.

Her touch is amazingly light on my skin. And it shouldn't be so different because for all the passion and urgency that often invades our bed, there are still plenty of times that we make love. We can be completely vulnerable and it's crazy intense and just…overwhelming.

But normally, no matter what, her nails end up biting into me before it is over. There is heat that burns white-hot between us and we can only take so much before it spirals into desperate clings and gasping breaths. Before one of us pushes the other to abandon all sense of restraint.

But there is nothing more important right now than taking this at _her_ pace. So I do everything she asks when her voice slides over steady thrum of the shower, and only when it's requested.

Faster, slower, kiss her, touch her. I obey and wait for her commands.

Until I hear the one I didn't expect she'd give.

_Bite_ her.

I still and pull my lips from hers, making sure I can see her eyes when I ask her why.

"Because," she pants. "_Deeper_…" I push further into her and she shivers, her legs tightening around me. "I _need_ it, Damon, please."

"What do you need?" I whisper. "Tell me."

"I need…_again_…" she says and I pull my hips away until just the tip of my head rests inside her. I wait a breath before sliding back into the spot she wants with a controlled speed that makes her head fall back. "God, _please_, Damon."

I cradle her jaw in my hand, trying to keep her fluttering eyes locked with mine. "I need the reason," I tell her and stroke smoothly into her once more.

"I need…_oh God_," she mumbles and I know she's close. "I have to be _part of you_, Damon," she confesses and arches against me. "I just…I _have_ to."

I smile and lean my forehead to hers, rocking my hips forward. "You already are," I vow and her arms tighten around me possessively.

I kiss her once, assuring and tender before I ease her head back and into the angle we need, letting my lips trail slowly until I'm above the vein she's begging me to drink from. And she's openly nervous, but no more than any other time we've done something that was new for her.

But she must feel me still hesitating because she winds her fingers through the hair at the base of my neck, her other hand lacing with mine before she presses them against the slick skin over her heart.

"I trust you," she tells me and I close my eyes at her words.

My darkest form comes free from where I've kept him chained, my teeth lengthening until they rest against her. I slip them into her skin in one smooth motion and her body contracts, and when I take them back out she loosens as though we're exhaling together. I gently encourage her blood to flow and when the first drops hit my tongue she sighs, abandoning herself to her pleasure and mine.

Her moans begin to echo in the tile around us, tugging at every instinct I have to thrust deeper, harder. To take and to possess every fraction of her fragility. My tongue worships at her skin with defiant contrast to the rigidity of my body until the familiar scrape of her nails leads me and I blindly follow, the rhythm in my hips racing to match the increasing thunder of her pulse.

And as I drink from her it's more than any promise we could make because there is no way to separate us now. She is my strength and my weakness, my angel and my sin, and she lives in me as I am in her.

The water continues running over us, and when the euphoria hits its apex I am back with her on that bank, lunging in on the silver Arabian. We are tangled under the waterfall, drowning in the surf. And right before her body claims me and I lose myself inside of her, all the sounds in the world become only her voice as Elena whispers my name.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty guys, so much fun ahead of us! Totally cannot wait to post the next chapter, or really any of the future ones. This couple, goodness, they just kill me with their adorableness. *happy sigh* Thanks to all for all the support, can't wait to hear your thoughts! And the happiest of holidays to you all!**

**Speaking of holidays, guess what? You know those Kindle World books me and Troggy are always jumping up and down about? YOU CAN WIN ONE FOR CHRISTMAS! HOW COOL IS THAT? Head over to __**** kindleworldsvampirediaries dot com backslash Christmas-giveaway ****and enter in the book of choice in the comments for a chance to win one for FREE! But hurry! Contest ends December 24th! **

******All my love, and happy reading!**

******-Goldnox**


	7. Black Heart Lover

**A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all! Hope you all had a safe and happy holiday, and I had wanted to get this to you guys this morning, but a certain site that shall remain unnamed *COUGH* was down. Must've been elves or something. Maybe a reindeer kicked a server. Who knows. Anyways, as always, cannot thank you enough for all the love and support that you have given!**

**This was beta'd by the moose wrangler, Trogdor19, who has won my heart by her unabashed loved for my stars. And for giving me more of them :)**

**MUSIC NOTE: We have TWO different songs that we are playing with in this chapter, of which we have the reason for the title. The first is _Lover by Devendra Banhart_, and if you love me at all, you will open another window and youtube the song so you can start listening to it at the same time you start reading. I have my reasons for this, I swear. Super fun and dirty song :) The second is just a reference at the end, but you should all listen and then dance like nobody's watching, at that is _Do You Wanna Touch Me by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts_. Super kick ass, classic song. **

**Enjoy! (And don't forget your musical accompaniment!)**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Black Heart Lover**

I left early this morning to grab a few things from the store while Elena was still asleep, and when I pull up to the house, music is blasting: some poppy punk-rock tune that I've never heard, but she sure seems to know it.

Because she is singing loudly, and enthusiastically, about wanting to be someone's lover.

Oh, this ought to be good.

And please, if there is a God, let her be dancing.

I turn off the car and get out, nearly forgetting to grab the bag of groceries from the passenger seat. I close the car door as quietly as possible, swinging the keys around my finger and sauntering up the porch.

I pause outside the front door. Did I just hear "Love you until you're sore"?

I sneak into the house, finding her in the kitchen washing the dishes with her back to me. She's wearing nothing but bare feet and long tan legs, cerulean-blue bikini bottoms and my white t-shirt tied in a knot, just high enough that I can see the dimples above her ass sway from side to side as she dips and grinds, popping her hips to the beat.

Fucking _gorgeous._

"_And I-I, I wanna fill your cup cup cup cup  
Fill it up, fill it up to the brim with love…"_

Fill it on up, Elena. You go right ahead, honey.

I set the bag down on the dining room table next to me without a sound, leaning up against the doorway that connects the kitchen. I grin and cross my arms, relishing every delicious second of my surprise show.

"_You'll never have to ask  
I'll give you my sweet grass  
I'm gonna mesmerize your ass…"_

Consider me mesmerized.

"_Just give me my first chance, it's gonna be the last  
I'm gonna make you wanna stay!"_

Oh baby, I'm not going anywhere.

"_I-I, I wanna be your cow…"_

She wants to what?

"_Give you all the milk around town  
__Let me see, let me see you drink it down…"_

Her hips swirl in a wide, slow circle, and _fuck_ if it doesn't make my mouth water.

"_I-I, I wanna be the pear tree  
I want you to climb all over me…"_

Anytime, girl.

"_Try my fruit and taste my seed…"_

I bite the inside of my cheeks, desperate not to laugh because she's really getting down now. The dishes are done and she's running her hands exotically through her hair, wild and wavy from the humidity.

"_Just let my do my thing  
Until you start to sing  
I'm going down you all night long."_

My eyes flare as she bends over at the waist and straightens with a long roll up her spine, beginning to lasso a dishtowel over her head.

"_I'm gonna build a bond  
I'm pullin' out my wand  
It feels so right it can't be wrong!"_

If that ain't the truth, I don't know what is.

"_Yeah!" _she shouts with the music and kicks up a heel behind her.

Couldn't have said it better, sweetheart.

I watch, completely enraptured as she sashays over to the breakfast table, shaking her delightful little ass the whole way there.

I seriously wonder if it's even possible to love her more than I do right now. Not when she's wiping the table and counters down in the sexiest damn cleaning job I have ever seen.

Survey says? Fuck the French Maid outfit. Give me bikini bottoms and a knotted t-shirt.

Every. Single. Day.

She straightens and when she blows a kiss at the table, I smile, ridiculously excited for my grand finale.

She doesn't disappoint, holding the dishtowel like a microphone and serenading the table like it's her "lover" as she dramatically acts out the lyrics.

"_We're gonna make it through  
You got me and I got you  
Your bleedin' heart's at my command…"_

Damn right.

"_If you don't love me too  
Then bein' friends will do  
Long as you let me in your bed!"_

She belts out the final note, made even better by her twirl on the ball of her foot. She stops with a satisfied, "Whoo!" and tosses the dishtowel in the air before she finally turns around.

"Damon!" she shrieks with a startled jump.

And with a wide grin, I begin to slowly clap.

* * *

The sun is warm and so is the water, lightly rolling around us as we drift lazily, still coming down from our last climax.

We're four days into an obscene amount of sex in every way it can be had, and I've got one blissed out girl who currently seems unable to stop kissing me and sipping at the saltwater on my lips, her tanned legs wrapped around my waist and arms around my neck.

I am a happy, happy man.

She lifts one more soft kiss from my lips with a hum of approval before her hands leave my skin, simply trusting me to hold her while she unties her hair from the messy bun she's been preferring. I watch greedily as she lets it down, tossing the damp dark strands and looking like a fantasy version of a beach-sex goddess with the sky reflecting off her sunglasses and bikini strings tied behind her bronzed neck.

Her hands cup my jaw as she steals one more kiss, then another, before she arches all the way back to dip her hair in the water and giving me one helluva view. I stroke my hands up her sides to support her as she straightens, her breasts flirting with my chest as she re-ties up her hair.

"You're too sexy with those on," she says and I smirk.

The sun kills my eyes down here and I don't know if it's just because they're such a light shade of blue or because of my vampirism, but it's been driving me crazy. Not that she knows that. Luckily I found a spare set of aviators in the glove compartment when I went to get her phone out of the car yesterday, and when I put them on she went eight shades of red and then jumped me. In the garage.

"You're too sexy _all _the time," I tell her as she finishes tucking in a strand of hair here, loosening one there, the whole thing wickedly hot in its casual imperfection. She finally gives up toying with it in favor of re-winding her arms around me, and not a moment too soon.

"Smooth, Salvatore," she mumbles against my lips and I smile, but I'm telling the truth.

She's naked every day until at least noon, and when she does put something on it's racy little swimsuits that show off every inch of her insanely built body. When we finally leave the bed it's only to go out to the beach, Elena stretching out on a towel so I can rub coconut-smelling lotion all over her skin. And if she doesn't immediately drag me into the water to satisfy her lust, I usually end up re-reading the same page in my book over and over, sneaking glimpses of her tanning next to me with our fingers laced together. At night she'll put on a flirty little summer dress for dinner, but then it's sunset and wine and everything comes right back off.

I'm pretty sure my personal heaven rests in the Florida Keys.

"Tell me something sweet," she whispers, seemingly fascinated with tasting the exact curve of my bottom lip.

"You're pretty," I croon and she laughs quietly.

"That was weak."

"Out of practice."

"That's right," she nods decisively. "Who could this wonderfully kind, considerate man be? Because you're a mean, mean vampire," she teases and pretends to growl at me. Which is ridiculously cute and succeeds in getting half a smile to curve my lips, and that just lights her up even more.

"Smartass," I grin.

"Aww, so romantic," she says dramatically. "You better hold me tight," she commands playfully and pulls me closer with her whole body. "I may faint."

I smile and wrap her more securely in my arms, and she goes right back to languidly kissing me between blissful sighs. I don't even know that she'd protest all that much if I suddenly declared that we're moving to the tropics and _never _going back to Virginia.

Could be worth a shot.

* * *

"Okay, so hold it between your palms, very gently, and then slowly start to _roll_ it," I tell Elena with my hands over hers, guiding her to the right movement.

"It feels funny," she giggles lightly.

"That's half the fun," I smile. "Don't neglect the other part," I tell her and move her hands down to the bottom half.

"Oops, sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her softly and continue leading her, her fingertips pillowed between mine.

"Why do I have to roll it? Why can't I just squeeze it?" she asks innocently.

"Because, it's delicate and you have to use just the right pressure if you want it to work right."

"Is that hard enough?"

"Perfect," I breathe.

She shrugs. "Doesn't feel all that delicate."

"Just wait 'til you get it in your mouth," I tell her and she giggles again. "Okay just a little more, watch the tip, and…we're there."

Her hands leave the last of the Gnocchi tubes so I can lay it on the cutting board in front of us and slice it into bite-sized pieces, and she leans further back against my chest with my arms on either side of her.

"I can't believe I made Gnocchi," she says cheerfully.

"Like a pro."

"So what do we do now?"

"Now," I say and toss the last pieces of potato pasta in the boiling water, "we let that cook for a few minutes and then we're done."

"What about the sauce?" she asks, not even paying attention to the fact that my hands are now on her waist and pulling her hips more snugly into mine.

"It's fine," I mumble, sweeping her hair to the side and kissing the back of her neck. She tastes like sunshine, even after her hour long bubble bath while I started dinner.

"I thought you wanted Italian sausage too," she says I chuckle deviantly, slipping one of the tiny straps of her dress off her shoulder.

"Is that what you want?" I breathe over her skin, my hand sneaking under the hem of her skirt and beginning to smooth its way up her thigh.

But instead of a moan, a subtle arch of her back and a racing pulse, she wiggles free of my grasp.

I'm still trying to figure out what just happened when she walks over to the sink and starts washing her hands, and I lean up against the counter, just waiting. Impatiently.

She finally shuts off the faucet and spends forever drying her hands before she turns to face me, tucking her hair behind her ear. After she struggles to find her words for a minute, the only ones to finally make it out are, "We…_can't_."

"Can't?" I say confused, because I really don't see the problem here. We have been able to "can" quite successfully for a while now.

She crosses her arms and cocks an eyebrow at me, and that's not can't. That's _won't._

"Okay, fine," I tell her, my hands by my shoulders in surrender because I have no idea what the hell I did to apparently bring everything to a screeching halt with no explanation whatsoever.

"Damon…" she starts and steps towards me, and I turn around to check on the pasta.

I'm not going to pressure her. If she doesn't want to sleep with me, then fine. That's just fine.

I feel the heat of her skin as she comes closer and I slide out of her reach before she can touch me, heading to the pantry to grab something I don't even need and trying to figure out what the hell my problem is.

It's her choice whether she wants to share her body with me, and I know that. _I do_. I'm having trouble explaining that to my cock, but that's not really the issue. I grab a spice off the shelf, tossing it in the air casually as I stroll out of the walk in.

I'm used to her rejecting me. This shouldn't hurt so fucking much.

I sprinkle in the sauce whatever it was that I grabbed and then I taste it, blatantly ignoring the hand she snuck onto my lower back and the thumb that's stroking over my spine.

"Will you stop?" she whispers and I chuckle humorlessly.

"You're the one having issues respecting my personal boundaries."

She snatches her hand away, and I glance at her. I haven't seen her this mad in a long, long time.

"Screw you," she spits and I smirk because I am an asshole.

"Hey, I offered."

"I'm allowed to say no!"

"And you do it so well," I say mockingly and turn back to the stove, making sure my cheek is beyond the reach of her palm before she gets any ideas.

But she doesn't swing. She doesn't gasp. She doesn't say _anything_.

After a eternity-long minute I start to worry that she may have had some sort of aneurysm, and when I take a peek at her, she's looking at me like I'm the shittiest thing she's ever seen and tears are running down her cheeks.

Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Elena…" I sigh and reach for her, and she jumps back before I can even get close.

"No," she snaps, her voice cracking.

I get one disappointed shake of her head and then she's gone, walking towards the bedroom.

She slams the door, and I wince.

Fuck.

I can't keep doing this shit. It's not like I don't piss her off and push her buttons all the time, but it's different now. There's so much more to lose.

I turn off the burners and run a hand through my hair, my head spinning and thoughts running with the speed of a Formula One race.

We have sex constantly so yeah, I was blindsided by her shut down, but so fucking what? If anything, that should have served as a big yellow caution flag because the only time I've ever received a not-right-now from her is the night that the blindfold came off. When I approached the tree up to her room I caught a glimpse of her waiting stark naked in her chair, and I bailed up to her roof before she saw me. And when I heard her finally climb under the covers I almost didn't go in, but I couldn't just leave. Because I _knew_ something was wrong.

I head over to the closed bedroom door and when I stop in front of it, I hear her quietly sniffle.

Something is wrong now. But it's not a black satin scarf, and there's only one other viable option.

I rap my knuckles on the door loud enough for her to hear, and she sniffles again but she doesn't tell me to drop dead so I take that as an invitation. I open it gently and lean against the frame, finding her sitting on the love seat with her feet curled under her, trying to be discreet as she wipes at her face.

"So," I start and clear my throat. "Now that I've pulled my head out of my ass, you want to tell me what's really going on?"

"You decide everything, why don't you figure it out," she snaps and I take a deep breath. Could've been worse.

I push off the frame and move to crouch down in front of her, and she shrinks back away from me.

"I'm not going to touch you," I whisper, trying to keep out of my voice the fact that something in me just shattered from her doing that.

She hangs her head so her hair falls forward, and I clench my hands into fists to keep them in place.

"Elena, what did I do that made you uncomfortable?"

Her head whips up and her eyes are wide and shocked, almost regretful, before they narrow. "You mean other than being the world's most insensitive jerk?"

"Yes."

"Nothing," she says quietly and looks down again.

"I need you to tell me, because I can't fix it if I don't know."

"You didn't do anything, Damon," she says and I silently breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm still not sure what's going on with her, and it's killing me to be in the dark but if she doesn't want to tell me then I'm just going to have to deal. I'm not going to get anywhere by forcing her to talk about it.

"Okay, one more thing and then I'll leave you alone." She peeks up at me and I try not to cringe at the way her eyes are watering. She's been so happy the last few days, and now she's crying and I've got no one to blame but myself. "You _always_ have the right to say no," I say seriously and her face falls.

"Damon…"

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to eat," I tell her with a strained smile and stand, and I'm one step away when her hand curls around my fist.

"Let me explain," she says and I shake my head.

"You don't-"

"Yes, I do," she says forcefully and tugs me so I'll face her, watching her brush her fingertips over her cheeks. "It's just really, really embarrassing."

My head tilts as I look her over. Lately she's been getting flustered about everything, but this seems a little more intense than usual.

I kneel in front of her again and she doesn't flinch when I settle my hands on her hips. "Tell me."

"I'm," she starts and bites her lip, blushing all over.

She doesn't continue and I'm really trying to be patient, but mostly I'm starting to freak the hell out because pieces are clicking together in a way that I'm not prepared for them to fit. She's been emotional and glowing and her libido is on overdrive, and she's crashing at night like she spent the day running a 10k marathon.

And I've never had to hear it, but every man alive knows what comes after that contraction.

There's no way she's pregnant.

Unless she's been sleeping with someone else…

_Holy shit. _

I can't breathe.

I start racking my brain for the last time she had her period, and I can't remember it.

Click. Click. One crazy loud fucking boom.

She whispers something and I blink. I think she just said it, but the words sounded different than they did in my mind.

"Huh?" I try and shake my head, but things aren't making sense yet. "Say that again."

"Damon! It's embarrassing!"

"I didn't hear you," I admit and she's looking at me like all my hair just fell out.

"What is wrong with you? Are you having some sort of nervous breakdown?"

"Tell me what you said and I'll let you know," I say and she arches her eyebrow at me.

"We've been having a lot of sex, and I'm sore," she says timidly and all the air in the room slaps back into my chest.

In the form of a loud, raw laugh.

"You are such an asshole!"

"Christ, Elena," I laugh harder and wrap my arms around her waist, laying my head on her lap. "Give me a minute to get over my heart attack."

"Get over it _away_ from me," she mutters and I groan in relief.

"I thought you were pregnant," I explain.

"Why? You said vampires-"

"Not in this universe. Does it look like I sparkle?" I smile and catch my breath. "But how do I know you and the Quarterback aren't-"

"I'm not sleeping with Matt," she says incredulously, before suddenly shrieking, "Oh my God! Are you sleeping with other people?"

"Right," I chuckle and lift my head. "You don't leave me the energy to spare and I'm pretty sure you'd cut my dick off."

"As long as you know that."

"Like I want anyone else," I say affectionately and stroke my fingertips up her leg, and she bats my hand away. "What the hell?"

"Just because we can't have sex doesn't mean I don't want to, and that makes it _difficult_."

"Poor baby," I pout at her.

"It's not funny."

"You're right," I nod. "But you're a pro at drooling over me and keeping those knees locked together, so this should be a walk in the park for you."

She gasps in shock and I match her expression, letting her shove my shoulder playfully.

"Can't believe you just said that," she mumbles and I reach up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I ask softly and she blushes deeply as she shakes her head no.

I lay my head down on her lap again and she rests a comforting hand on my hair, helping me try to relax. We push boundaries, but the last thing I would ever want to do is cross one. The thought makes me sick to my stomach and she must know, because she barely breathes, "I promise, Damon. You have never hurt me."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, letting guilt leave with air as I hold her tighter.

"So," I say lightly after a minute and straighten. "You wanna stay here and pout about the joys of celibacy? Or do you and your angry vagina-"

"Damon!"

"Want to come have a romantic dinner with me?" I finish smoothly. "I'm afraid Italian sausage is off the menu. And don't get any pervy ideas, I'm a high class girl and I never put out before you slap a ring on it."

"I hate you, so much," she grins and shakes her head.

"All evidence to the contrary. Come on, gimpy," I say and rise, pulling her up with me and dodging her half-hearted kick to my leg.

"You know, I should have cut you off sooner because your ego is out of control."

I scoff. "Good luck with that."

She narrows her eyes at me and I lick my lips seductively, listening to her pulse speed up. And when I grin triumphantly, she knows she's busted. I step away from her, walking backwards to the door and watching her eyes stroke up and down my body.

"Is it me, or is it hot in here?" I ask innocently and tighten my abs so they ripple when I pull my shirt off, flinging it at her. She crosses her arms and lets it drop by her feet, and I let blood flash around my eyes, seeing her swallow thickly.

I shrug. "Must have been me."

"Damon! That's not fair!" she whines.

I turn the corner and she curses under her breath before following after me, no doubt staring at my ass while I dance my way into the kitchen, whistling _Do You Wanna Touch Me_ the whole way there.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty guys! So much fun! I am having such a blast writing this story (as if it doesn't show) and cannot wait to hear your always amazing responses!**

**In addition to this being posted today, I am also putting up a Christmas one shot, which is post 5x10 Damon POV. Gonna be a little angsty, but I SWEAR I am not trying to ruin anyone's holiday, and hoping that the end makes it all worthwhile. It's called Tis The Season To Be Dishonest. So feel free to check it out! And safe and happy New Years to all of you lovely people!**

**-Goldnox**


	8. Checkmate

**A/N: Happy (belated) New Years! Super excited to post this chapter, it's one of my favorites :)**

**All the thanks to my beloved Trogdor19, the most enthusiastic and supportive beta, like, ever. And a master butt-dialer ;) AND a total kickass author and I am so excited for the chapter you are posting for _In Time We Trust_! Oh the shit you come up with! So jealous. So so jealous! Good thing I love you :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Checkmate**

I sweep her rook with my knight, and she doesn't even scoff.

"Your move, Elena."

Nothing. She's still too busy biting her thumbnail and staring at my chest like she can see every grain of my skin through my shirt.

We're closing in on hour forty-eight of the Sex Embargo, and she's cracking. Hard. It's not like it's been a cakewalk for me either, but I'm trying not to let it show. Her? Not so much.

She grumbled and tossed and turned the entire first night, and by the time the sun rose we were both wide awake and ready to get the hell away from the bed that suddenly felt too small in its lack of movement. I dawdled in the kitchen under the pretense of cooking breakfast while she showered_, alone_, conveniently finishing my grand culinary masterpiece of over-cooked scrambled eggs and burnt biscuits just as she turned off the water.

I never ruin food, haven't in years, but I couldn't concentrate on anything that wasn't bare and slick and out of bounds. I was hoping she'd eat in the kitchen while I took my cold shower, at a nice safe distance from my lonely and empty hands, but when I finished my failed attempt at freezing my erection into submission I found her sitting cross-legged on the bathroom counter, nibbling on a slice of toast that I didn't make and greeting me with a snippy, "What?"

I threw my hands up in surrender because her attitude the whole morning had been short at best. At first the entire situation was hilarious watching her feel the pain of having to keep it in her pants, and I wasted no time or energy the night before in teasing her about wanting me. But right then, that "what" just screamed danger and I'm trying not to provoke her.

At least, not anymore.

And it probably wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made to basically let her hold a knife to my throat, especially when she's this high strung, but it actually worked like a charm in getting her to sashay into the nice version of Elena. You know, the one she is when she's getting laid.

I haven't shaved the whole time we've been here and she hasn't complained, but the scruff was beginning to bug me. Admittedly, I'm a little on edge and my OCD goes out of control when the occasional dry spell happens. So with Little Missy Huffy Britches still sitting on the counter, I got out my straight razor and went right to doing the same thing I've been doing for decades, without thinking about it because I never do anymore. That's like paying exhaustive attention to brushing your teeth. I have more important shit to think about, thank you.

Like mentally debating what color of underwear she had on under those tiny black shorts that were showing off her legs.

And yep, I cut myself. What a winner.

But it broke Elena out of whatever trance she was in, which I'm pretty sure had something to do with me only wearing a towel, and she immediately ripped the razor out of my hand. Fighting with your fragile human girlfriend over an object sharpened beyond anything that should be legal? That'll wake you up in the morning.

Double espresso? No thanks, I think I'll have a coronary instead.

The only way I got her to stop swinging it around as she scrabbled out of my reach was to agree to let her shave me.

Now, I trust Elena. _Most _of the time. I trust her not to drink my bourbon. I trust that she won't pour sugar in the gas tank of my car when she gets pissed off. I trust that she'll tell me when someone tries to murder her. I do _not_ trust her with weapons. Of any degree. She is ten times more likely to hurt herself with scissors than to snip the paper, because she gets distracted by the thought that somewhere, a tree is crying.

So sure, why don't I just let her shave me? Sensitive skin, unsteady hands, major arteries all ripe for the gashing... Cleaning up copious amounts of blood sounds like a fun way to spend our morning.

But she just…she looked all cute and excited and I hadn't seen her smile in something like twelve hours and I was starved for it and yeah, I caved. Imagine my relief to find out that I may have underestimated whatever Ric's been teaching her about how to handle a blade. And I owe him for that. Big time. Because she only nicked me once, and she was having such a blast she didn't even get mad when I cursed and pretended that she sliced open my jaw. It's not like she didn't know I was going to fuck with her at some point, and it was nice to have her laughing again.

But mostly, she was very, very quiet and overly careful through the whole thing.

The few sounds she made were tiny little whispers of self-conscious questions about whether she was doing it right and needless apologies when she thought that she wasn't, despite me reassuring her. And she knows I'll heal, but she didn't treat me like I would and seeing her concentrate so hard, with that vein in her forehead going all crazy as she bit her lip and winced at the sound of steel scraping against my skin, was kind of endearing.

She usually treats me like I'm made out of Kevlar, and she makes me feel that way. Strong. Invincible. But she's also starting to do this thing where it's like she wants to take care of me, and I'm trying to get a handle on it.

The first time she did it I had to look closely to realize that it's not because she's deemed me weak. It's the opposite. She worries because I'm cynical and a dick and I bitch all the time about stupid stuff like the dirt on her shoes and her crap taste in movies, but she's not unaware that if I am really having a problem, I very rarely tell her about it. She's got enough stuff on her plate and she doesn't need mine too, and usually mine is about her. You don't ask for help in winning the heart of the woman you love _from_ the woman you love. That would be like going for the gold in duplicitous manipulation.

Regardless, whether I tell her anything or not, she always seems to know when something is off with me. When I need her patience a little more than usual and not to complain when I dote on her. And yesterday I needed that because somewhere in between the razor leaving my hands and finding hers, I had some sort of personality fracture and was suddenly concerned that sex may be too much a part of our relationship, scared that's all she may want from me. And then I had a panic attack because I couldn't remember ever feeling like that was a bad thing before and I had no idea whose face was staring at me in the mirror with an 18 year-old girl holding a straight razor to his cheek.

So I told her we were getting out of the house for the day and she tilted her head at me, but after a minute of her searching my eyes she nodded and went right back to her task. And when she was done, she cupped my face in her hands and kissed me, telling me that she loved the relaxed look but that clean shaven would always be "her Damon." She hopped off the counter and left me staring after her, wondering what that meant and confused as to why it felt like I had a hot air balloon inside my chest.

It stayed there the rest of the day.

We drove to the center of town and parked, spending the entire afternoon walking and weaving in and out of whatever little gift shops and stores that caught her eye. Which was damn near all of them, but seriously? I couldn't have cared less. Because once we were far from any surface that could be conveniently used for carnal activities, she was glued to my side with an arm draped casually around my waist like it's always been there. Like we hadn't spent the last torturous hours trying not to touch each other because it was far too tempting.

And she'll always be mouthwateringly sexy, but it's a hell of a lot easier not to rip her clothes off when she's determined to put on every single pair of oversized, flamboyantly colored sunglasses she can find that make her resemble some weirdly cute bug, and begging me to try on a neon green strap that she swears is a bathing suit but looks like something she should be wearing in her hair.

Yeah, that was a no.

I responded by very politely telling her that I'd slip into that when she started buying crotchless panties. Segue into my first introduction that rubber shower shoes with a big floppy flower on them could be used as a bludgeon. Hell, Elena might be able to teach me a thing or two and I should remember that for my next torture event. Death by flip flop.

After we got thrown out of the store by some hag who was yelling about us ruining her family establishment while we laughed our asses off, Elena decided it was time to try her hand in the art of photography. God only knows what's really going to show up on the roll of pictures from the disposable camera: probably fuzzy motions of me trying to snatch the damn thing out of her hands or just 24 identical rectangles of a tan finger accidently covering the lens, but I know at least one on there is going to come out. I hate to admit it, but I_ may_ even be disappointed if it's not the reputation-ruining one she took while we were relaxing on a bench and watching the water.

I thought she was winding that little plastic dial to take a picture of the beach, but she snuggled further under the arm I had around her shoulder and kissed my cheek, and when I closed my eyes with a half-smile, I heard that definitive click. But fifty bucks says the only ones to actually develop are going to be the ten I took of her ass and none of the ones she took of us.

"Elena…" I try again, and she's still not hearing a word I'm saying. I wonder if I'm going to have to fucking strip to get her attention.

I scrub a hand over my face and through my hair, looking over the chessboard with a sigh. I should probably cut her a little slack. I don't even know how she's not hungover and currently reclaiming the tile in front of the toilet as her new abode.

Leave it to her to sniff out a reggae shack and declare our train was stopping there. Because of all the more expensive places we could have gone to last night, restaurants with a view and ambience and all that shit chicks like her are supposed to love, my girl wants jerked chicken and Bob Marley warbling on a juke box while people bump and grind under Christmas lights draped across the ceiling. Whatever, she can have whatever she wants and what she wanted was to have fun and dance and get drunk. Mission: Firmly Accomplished.

Elena can make friends with anyone. I know this because after the two minutes it took me to get our drinks and begin her love affair with the Long Island Iced Tea, I found her in a giggly dance off with fresh-off-the-meal-card Daddy Hates My Boyfriend Even More Than My Dreadlocks. At least said boyfriend, Rasta Ronald, only had eyes for his girl and he kept them firmly off of mine, despite getting a little miffed when shock! I was a hell of a lot better dancer than he was and wasn't shy about showing the girls a good time. Which we were all having until Elena's claws came out.

Girl was five sheets to Tahiti, and I've discovered her hearing somehow gets improved when she's drunk. There's no other way with me at the bar, her on the dance floor, and somehow over the roars of people proclaiming that they shot the sheriff, that she could have caught the super classy girl oh so subtly asking if I could show her where the restroom was. For the life of me I will never understand why they think that is not the grossest invitation for sex of all time, but I knew what she was asking and her hand on my bicep must have told Elena.

So in the red corner weighing in at a territorial 117 pounds we had Featherweight Gilbert, looking to maim and destroy and burn the whole place to the ground if it meant getting Busty and Bombed the hell away from my sleeve. And after a few choice words that would earn Elena a smack from her dead mother, _and_ breaking up the bar fight she proudly commanded like a five star general from the military branch of Whup Ass, we blew our farewell kisses to her brand new besties and bailed before the cops showed.

She passed out in the car on the way back to the house after grumbling about fugly sluts and proclaiming the stitches the girl would need would probably be an improvement to her face, and by the time I closed the garage my cheeks hurt from grinning because my little Xena looks a lot closer to Snow White when she sleeps.

When she woke up this morning I asked if she remembered what happened, and she's got some blank spots but for the most part she recalls every fist swung and glass broken. And in typical Elena fashion the first words to follow were whether we should try to find that girl and apologize. I asserted that Elena is always gorgeous, but orange prison jumpsuits weren't all that attractive. She instantly teared up and I tried my hardest not to laugh as I held her, and under her sniffly insistence I promised that I would bail her out of jail if it ever came to that. As if I wouldn't eat anyone that tried to take her away.

Two aspirin and some coffee and she's still a little grouchy, but I don't think it has anything to do with a hangover. Because we've spent the day with me teaching her how to play chess after we silently agreed that my hands lathering her in coconut tanning lotion was probably not the best way to keep us dressed. She's a feisty little thing when frustrated, in every sense of the word, and with me kicking her ass in chess six times in a row instead of spending the morning grabbing it, that tongue of hers is getting sharp.

She's not the only one who is feeling the pain of abstinence, and for me it's literally a physical one. And I could do something about it, but I won't. It's not fair to her and it's not like I could do it without her noticing anyways.

Not having sex with her is not going to kill me. I don't think.

Although she might abbreviate my lifespan if I don't get her satisfied. And soon.

But first I have to get her attention, because the FBI could show up at our front door right now and she'd probably still be chewing on that thumbnail and mentally undressing me from the other side of the kitchen table.

"Elena!" I say and nudge her chair with my foot, and her eyes snap up like she just got busted. Because she did.

"What?"

"I have you mated in two moves."

She should blush professionally. I'm convinced. She'd make a killing.

I gesture to the chess board and her gaze sweeps down, shoulders tensing. Her right leg is bouncing and her heart is hammering and this is getting ridiculous. She wants me and I want her and all the king's horses and all the king's men aren't making a dent in hiding it.

"Yeah, I'm done," she says quickly and topples her king, standing in a blur and fidgeting with her shorts like she's on speed and can't sit still for another minute. "I'm going for a run."

My head follows her in a swivel as she stalks off to the bedroom. "Okaaay," I drawl.

I offered earlier to help if she wanted to train and get some energy out, only to be met with an earful about "bringing the drama into her bubble." But she's quiet now, not uttering a word as she comes back out with running shoes on, finishing her crooked ponytail just before shutting the front door firmly behind her.

I blow out a breath. Run hard, Elena. Please, for my sake.

I stand and start clearing the board, a beautiful Triple Decker set with Ebony, Red Sandalwood and Boxwood chessmen for the player's choosing and I'm just starting on her side when the front door slams.

My head snaps up and I check to see what all the fuss is about, and Elena is glaring at me like I'm dead the minute she finds a stake. I'm still racking my brain for anything I could have done to deserve her looking at me like that when she starts stomping my direction, and I don't see a weapon and it's not like I couldn't take her if it came to a brawl, but still, I swallow.

She storms into the kitchen and I back up, bumping into the table behind me and sending rooks and pawns hurtling to the floor, but I care much less about replacing a thousand-dollar chess set than the brunette who's about two seconds from making a new one with my internal organs as the pieces.

"What?" I finally snap and I barely cross the t when she's jumping into my arms, her lips slamming into mine and her knees hitting the table and sending it further back and judging by the moans that are pouring out of her, she's totally oblivious to the pain and my awkward stumbling.

It takes me a second to shift from confused to fuck yes, but Elena's already redlining as she squeezes her legs around me and pulls at my hair so she can kiss me deeper. I chuckle and adjust my grip on her ass, taking a step to gain my balance but only getting the opposite when something small and sharp cuts into the arch of my foot and I wince, tripping again and _where_ is that fucking table when you need it?

Something bumps against the back of my leg and that has to be it, and I need to get her on something solid so I can destroy her clothes. I turn and move to set her on the table and I'm so lost in the scratch of her nails and body writhing against me that I'm too late in noticing there is nothing there but air, and we're going down.

I suck in a breath when I feel her weight drop lower than I expected and she squeaks in fear, clinging to me harder and stealing the last semblance of equilibrium that I had. My knees hit the floor first with blinding agony and I hiss when my elbow catches the corner of a chair and dammit, she's going to crack her head on this tile. I barely manage to cushion her neck before we crash, but I think I just broke my arm to brace us.

"God, my _ass_!" she groans and I can't help but to laugh, because I know that had to hurt but it could have been a lot worse. I'm just about to ask her if she's okay when she narrows her eyes at me and shoves at my chest, pushing me roughly onto my back.

"Jesus Christ," I snicker when she clambers on top of me, straddling my hips and tugging my t-shirt up my body.

And apparently that _still_ isn't fast enough for her because she pushes against my pecs as she yanks the cotton over my head and off my arms, the back of my head slamming into the tile.

"Ow," I whine and she rolls her eyes.

"You're fine," she growls and then her mouth is back against mine as she grinds into my cock. Which feels incredible, but also hurts like a bitch because I never, never learn.

Thankfully my suffering is short lived because the next thing I know her hands are on my zipper and then her mouth is around the head of my cock, and I must have busted my head open on the floor because there's no way this is real, it feels too damn good.

Every inch of me is crazy sensitive and Elena knows exactly what she's doing as she strokes me with her tongue and sucks at my tip; confident in precisely what reduces me from an intelligent being into a moaning, begging, nonsensical version of myself. She hums her desire around my shaft and swallows to take me deeper, and I blow out a breath and try to get myself under control before I have to resort to stopping her. She's one more twirl of that tongue from being really, really, pissed off, and—

I open my mouth to say her name, and she's gone. I open my eyes to see her standing over me and slipping out of her shorts and panties and God, she looks so good, but there's a ping at the back of my brain that's trying to put on the brakes and I'm having one hell of a difficult time trying to remember why.

The caution sign flashes into clarity when the soft skin of her thighs glides over my hips, and I groan at how wet she is when I brush against her.

"Wait, wait, wait," I rush out but she either doesn't hear me or she doesn't care, because she reaches between us to put me where she wants me and then she's sliding down my cock and stealing every single breath in my body.

Neither of us moves. I think we're in shock. Her nails are cutting into my chest and my grip is too strong on her hips and she's_ so_ tight.

"Elena…" I grit out and she slowly begins to roll her body. "Elena," I say louder because I will never forgive myself if I hurt her and I need her but we're not supposed to be doing this and she's not stopping. "Elena!"

"God! Shut _up_," she growls and then she's kissing the ever loving crap out of me. And Christ, I want her, but— "I'm fine," she whispers and I lose all sense of chivalry I ever fucking had in this life or any other.

I slam up into her and she gasps, but I want more. It's a blur of a movement to get her on her back and I can't fuck her hard enough, fast enough. I sit back on my heels to gain more power and the only words she knows anymore are my name and yes and she's shouting and shaking and I'm in a daze of primitive instincts and it's too strong, too intense, too _everything._

She's two orgasms down in fewer minutes and I have no idea how I even know that because I'm drowning in her silk and I can't feel anything else; not my knees on the tile or her legs draped over my arms, her skin under my hands as I pull her into me so I can thrust deeper. God, I want to bite her thighs and suck on her clit and have her scream my name until she loses her fucking voice and I roar as I explode into her, hard and thick and fangs fully out and reveling in every single throb as she clenches around me again.

Fuck, I needed that.

"Um, ow," she says breathily a minute later and my body jerks in panic.

"Elena?" I ask worried as I pull out and she smiles at me, but winces as she reaches under her back. She takes out something that looks suspiciously like a queen and wiggles it at me.

"Think she wanted in on the action?" she jokes and I grin.

I exhaustedly flop down beside her on the tile and when she starts to giggle, it's infectious. Before I know it both of us can't seem to stop laughing, just lying on the kitchen floor in various states of undress and flooded with a high that I will never get enough of.

I finally catch my breath and work my arm under her neck so I can pull her closer to me, and she immediately snuggles against my chest with her head on my shoulder. "Feel better?" I tease.

"Don't act like you weren't two minutes from going insane too."

"No idea what you're talking about," I tell her innocently and she arches her eyebrow at me.

"Mm-hmm. And you haven't been taking cold showers the last two days _or _cleaned the house five times."

"Maybe that's because you use up all the hot water and never pick up after yourself."

"Sure. There's that, and then there's the _real _reason," she says sarcastically and I grin.

"You okay?" I ask her quietly and she nods, a timid smile lighting her up.

"I'm going to have one weird looking bruise on my back from that stupid chess piece, and I can't believe you dropped me, jerk! But yeah," she pauses with a blush, "I'm fine."

"Good," I tell her and kiss her gently. "By the way. You're _crazy_," I smile.

She shifts so she's fully on top of me, rocking her hips once and taunting me with the promise of round two. "You don't know the half of it."

* * *

God, I missed her skin.

I'm still enjoying my reunion with it, petting and kissing the soft planes of her stomach as we relax in bed, Elena's hands lazily combing through my hair. I don't know why it still feels like it's been forever since I've touched her, but I'm nowhere near fulfilled and I know she isn't either.

We finally left the kitchen in favor of the bed, and we're not leaving it anytime soon. But for now we're taking a breather to soak up the endorphins, basking in the precious moments of being as open and honest as we ever get with one another. Because as backwards as it is, I think this is where we trust each other the most.

Case in point is currently stretched out on the bed with her head resting comfortingly on the pillow, watching me adore her gloriously nude body as she cheerfully muses about us, her muscles and pulse just as relaxed as when she first wakes up in the morning.

"Do you know what the best part of this whole trip is?" she asks happily.

"Having me naked?" I mumble against her skin.

"Well, that too."

"You being naked with me?" I try and she laughs softly. I leave one last kiss on her stomach, right below her perfect little belly button before I lift my head to look at her.

"How happy you are," she beams at me.

"Hmm," I smile back and return to appreciating the subtle curve of her hip.

I love when she gets in these moods. She'll tell me a dozen sweet and adoring things without ever bothering to get embarrassed, and sometimes it makes it harder to forget the words we're not saying. But I _feel_ them.

"Damon?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I don't want it to end," she whispers and I sigh, propping my head up in my hand so I can watch her more closely.

She looks so worried, and I hate that. I need her to be sure of us, so I can be sure. She knows I love her, and she said she was going to fight for us, but she wasn't far off when she called this a bubble.

It is.

There are a lot of people waiting to elbow us apart and my voicemail is probably full of threats from next week's villain and we still have a herd of elephants in the room that we're ignoring and _none_ of that has followed us here. And thank God because she was right and we needed this: some time to just_ be_. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about what's going to happen when we get back to the Commonwealth of Judgment and Separate Beds.

"Who says it's going to?"

She shrugs. "You're not like this at home."

I try not scoff. Can she really blame me? Until the night before we left we were still playing See No Evil, Love No Evil. If she doesn't understand the reason for the change, I don't know what to tell her.

I finally settle on, "It's difficult to declare checkmate with a pawn."

"Don't change the subject," she frowns at me and I shake my head.

"I'm not," I promise. "Just humor me for a minute. What happens to the little soldier if a knight lands directly in front of it?"

"Then it's stuck," she tells me and I smile. Nice to know she was paying attention to something other than my chest this morning.

"Exactly. Can't go back, can't go forward. But say a bishop lands next to the knight, what happens then?"

She huffs like this is all stupid and I cock my eyebrow at her. "Pawn takes the bishop," she finally supplies.

"Good girl," I nod at her. "It's one step at a time, and any advancement usually ends up being indirect because the path is almost never clear in front."

"Okay, what does this have to do with you being happy at home? And why can't you just talk to me like a _normal_ person?" she grumbles and I roll my eyes at her.

"When we got here, you asked why I showed up the first night with the scarf. And I just answered."

She tilts her head at me and I wait, until she softly says, "Indirect moves?" and I smile.

"This," I say and brush a fingertip down the length of her thigh, "was easier for you. And we had a lot of players on that board."

"So I'm the pawn, and you're the bishop?" she asks like she wants to be offended, but can't quite get there.

"No, sweetheart," I tell her gently. "_I'm_ the pawn, and you're the king."

"Oh," she laughs haughtily. "Checkmate, huh?" she says and I wink at her. She smiles and shakes her head before her brow suddenly furrows. "Wait, if a pawn checks the king, he loses. The king will take him on the next move…"

"The pawn doesn't lose," I scoff and slowly prowl my way up her body until I can nuzzle her nose with mine. "We _both_ win."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all had a happy New Year and I will hopefully see you next chapter :)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	9. The Words We Don't Say

**A/N: Hello dearies! You guys all rock. Like, even better than Tom Cruise in Rock of Ages, rock. Yep.**

**Beta'd with love and grace and a brilliant magical wand for fixing my glaring problems by Trogdor19.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Words We Don't Say**

I head into the kitchen where Elena has been holed up all morning. Baking cookies. I don't know what inspired the sudden need for her to get in touch with her inner Betty Crocker, but I'm not complaining. Girl can burn a boiled egg and heaven forbid I let her touch anything resembling poultry, but Mama Gilbert was apparently a master cookie maker and passed that on to her daughter. Score for me.

I stop behind her and rest my chin on her shoulder, reaching for a cooling snickerdoodle when she slaps my hand.

"Stop it," she mutters and goes back to spooning out more dough on a baking sheet.

"Hungry," I whine and she scoffs.

"I'm pretty sure you already had your breakfast _and_ your lunch, and you can wait."

I huff a laugh and shift my lips to the exact spot on her shoulder that my teeth were in this morning, kissing her gently even though the tiny openings have healed. I only gave her enough blood for them to close because I don't want her to be sore, and I haven't exactly been using the same vein every time.

And drinking from her is fucking amazing, but this morning when I looked at her and she had different marks on her neck, breast and inner thigh, I put my foot down on the vamp blood refusal. I'm still using blood bags and I won't stomach her resembling some sick sort of chew toy or looking like my personal vending machine. I _can't._

She was predictably pissed off when I said I wouldn't bite her again until she let me heal her, but compromise is supposed to be part of the deal. She sees it more like losing, but whatever. She can bitch as much as she wants as long as she's not in pain and her skin is smooth and perfect. It's not like she's in any danger of turning. I'm the biggest gunslinger in these parts and I'm certainly not going to kill her.

I don't think she even realized the lack of vampires down here until I reminded her that not everyone is rocking protective jewelry, and Florida is not exactly lacking on sunshine. And she calmed down for a while, until she realized that she never invited me into the house.

I was halfway through folding a pile of laundry in the bedroom when she screamed, and I couldn't find her fast enough. Her being on edge sets me on edge, and even though I knew she was probably fine, I think I scared her even more when I blurred into the kitchen and grabbed her by the shoulders, demanding that she tell me what happened.

Her face was as white as the flour on her hands when she whispered that she never invited me in. That anyone could get to her at any time. And apart from being considerably offended that she didn't think I would protect her, mostly I was just relieved that she wasn't hurt.

After I got over my stroke I offered to switch the house reservation to her name if it would make her feel better, but explained the only reason it wasn't like that already was because she had nothing to worry about. And she thought about it for a few minutes, but finally said that she trusted me and if she was freaking out over nothing, then she'd let it go. One short apologetic kiss for scaring me, and then back to baking she went.

I don't want to say it, but if she's going to be this antsy every time I give her my blood, I may have to stop drinking from her altogether. Which would really suck, but it's not worth her stress and subsequently mine. And there's always going to be a certain level of anxiety for both of us as long as she's got a ticking clock on her lifespan. She's come too close, too many times, to being encased in a coffin while her brother reads a eulogy over her body for anyone to forget that she always seems to be on the verge of being killed by one thing or another. Hello one wary, suspicious life.

Every stranger is a threat.

Every corner is a trap.

But when vampire blood comes into the mix? We head from DEFCON 3 to a blaring Condition 1 because to Elena, the only thing worse than death is becoming immortal. It may be different in the future if it ever becomes her choice to turn, but everything in me screams that it never will be. That's just not who she is. And as much as I love her and don't want to lose her, she's not ready to make that kind of commitment to me and I get that. I do. At least I know she cares about me and I still have her smiles and her whispers, her kisses and her eyes. She can take all the time she needs to decide what she wants for the future.

And she's relaxed now as I stand behind her with my hands on her hips and chin on her shoulder, watching as she sprinkles cinnamon and sugar over the rows of dolloped dough she's getting ready to put in the oven.

"Come on," I purr. "Just one? I'll be good…"

"No way," she laughs. "You get all crazy when you have too much sugar, and I saw what you put in your coffee earlier."

"I was sleepy. Someone kept me up all night."

She dusts her hands off and turns to face me, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. "If anyone was kept awake last night, it was _me_, Mister 'The moon is too bright, let's have sex.'"

I snort because I totally said that to her, and I still got laid. I swear I don't know why she puts up with me.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she grins.

"I don't recall hearing you complain about it. Especially not when you turned over and did that thing with your leg. What did you call that?"

"Damon!" she screeches and shoves at my shoulder.

"They teach you that at summer camp?" I whisper and lean forward to brush my lips against hers, and she tastes like Christmas. In the _summer_.

My hands slide from her hips down to her ass and I squeeze greedily, and she jerks her head back.

"I said no cookies," she reprimands and I narrow my eyes at her.

Talk about bullshit. I'm a smoking hot 170 year old vampire and I can't kiss my way into a snickerdoodle before noon?

"Don't look at me like that. Yes, you're gorgeous, but I'm not going to fall for it. Go walk down to the tennis courts and give the old ladies a group heart attack if you need an emergency ego boost."

"You know what?" I snap playfully. "Maybe I will. At least they appreciate the goods and old women _always_ have amazing cookies." I cock an eyebrow at her and she sticks her tongue out at me before I turn, heading back toward the living room and my book.

"Wear the blue shirt, it brings out your eyes!" she calls after me and I scoff, changing directions when the doorbell rings.

"Don't have to, looks like they're coming to me instead. You blew it, Gilbert," I call back before opening the front door.

And there's nobody there. Hmm.

I glance down and startle because there's a fucking kid on my welcome mat. Probably ten years old but looks more like six, a dirt brown vest and puke green sash with buttons and patches sewn onto it that probably say something like Number One at Having Dirty Hands and Master at Being Sticky.

But fuck me running if she doesn't have big brown doe eyes and chocolate hair all the way down her back. There's a tiny little cart stopped beside her with a purple ribbon wound all over the handle, and it's stacked with boxes of overpriced, mass produced baked goods.

I raise an eyebrow because I don't do interacting with anyone under the legal driving age, and she blushes.

Jesus Christ, is there some sort of injection I can take to make me immune to that? Because as soon as those cheeks turn pink I find myself listening as she rattles on about some trip to go over the rainbow, and to get there she needs me to buy eight seahorses and a unicorn and teach a puppy how to do the jitterbug and I'm busting out my wallet.

I wonder if God invented brown eyes with flushed cheeks just to make me broke.

She skips off happily with half her stock depleted, now resting in my sucker hands, and I shut the door and head into the kitchen.

I don't pause when I find Elena standing by the counter with her heart hammering away and brandishing a knife like it's the only thing between her and a grave, and I stroll over to the trashcan and throw away fifty bucks worth of mortification. She still hasn't moved when I stop in front of her and take the knife, laying it on the counter far, far away from her trembling hands. I snag a snickerdoodle, and softly kiss her on the cheek.

"Yours are better," I tell her and pop it into my mouth, flashing her a quick smile before going back to the living room.

I flop down on the couch and stretch out, opening my book and listening to her take unsteady breaths, trying to calm down. She's safe and somewhere inside of her she knows that, but she's spent too much time being afraid the last year. She's tough as all hell but she has a tendency to adjust her level of fear based on how seriously I treat a situation, and if I go in there and coddle her, it's not going to do anything but make her feel like she just escaped a brush with death. The more blasé I am, the faster she's going to relax.

Although I'm about ten seconds from throwing that knowledge out the window if she doesn't get under control, and quick.

I'm just starting to close my book when I hear her take a step, and then another, and I re-open my book and turn the page. She doesn't say anything when she comes into the living room, but she kneels between my legs on the sofa, ducking under my book so she can snuggle on my chest with my arms now around her. I wind one of my legs over both of hers, and she sniffles.

"What are you reading?" she asks softly, her voice shaky.

"The crazy ramblings of a man that thought he was a genius, but probably just needed a _lot_ of therapy," I tell her, tossing my copy of _Thus Spoke Zarathustra*_ on the coffee table so I can hug her more securely.

Her body spasms under a single, silent laugh. "First Girl Scout cookies, and now you're reading Dr. Seuss? You going to open a day care next?"

"Too late. Bought the one on Maple Street in Mystic Falls."

She scoots up closer and buries her face in my neck, her hands gripping me tightly. "You're so mean to me," she whispers.

One of my hands leaves her back to thread into her hair, massaging her scalp. Her pulse slowly evens out and quietly, I breathe, "I know."

* * *

I sigh at the moon that is mocking me and I roll onto my side so I'm facing her back, my hand sliding under the comforter so I can lightly run a knuckle down her spine, and she flinches away from my touch. I pull my hand back and tuck it under my head with a frown.

What the hell is this?

After the Girl Scout debacle a couple of days ago, she cried for about ten minutes. I think she was just overwhelmed after getting so cozy in our little escape from her battle ravaged life. But she eventually settled and we took a nap on the couch, afterwards going right back to our regularly scheduled flirting and teasing like nothing ever happened.

And today was a good day. She laughed all morning and we spent the afternoon messing around and swimming in the ocean, followed by a long bubble bath and then out to dinner. We came home and shared a bottle of wine, slow danced on the beach. We had incredible sex, and now…this.

I wait another few minutes while confusion brews into anger, just opening my mouth to ask her what her problem is when her voice stops me.

Quiet and timid, disappointingly dejected, she asks, "Why don't you ever tell me you love me?"

I swallow tightly as ire fades from my body, replaced by the sour twang of guilt. I slide closer to her so I can feel the heat of her skin against my chest, scooping her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. She doesn't move away, but she doesn't respond to me either when I rest my arm over her waist, my palm on her stomach.

I drop a kiss to her shoulder, and still nothing.

I take a deep breath. "Do you think I don't?" I say softly and she barely shrugs. I sigh and shake my head. "You know better than that, Elena."

"Then why don't you say it?" she whispers, and in the silent darkness of the night, her words seem to echo around me while I try to figure out how to explain this to her.

If I were to say those words again and she says them back, I'll wonder if it was from the pressure of returning it, or whether she really does mean them. I know she cares, and for now, that's enough.

"That should be obvious," I mumble into her shoulder and she turns her head to peek at me, her brows knitted together. She rolls over to face me and she looks heartbroken, but I don't understand why. None of this should be news to her.

Her tiny palm reaches up to cradle my cheek, her thumb sweeping over my skin when she quietly says, "Is that what you think?"

What, that even though we've come a long way from her hating me to being friends, sleeping together and now trying something more, that she's still not sure whether she's in love with me? I absolutely think that.

My fingertip traces a line from her temple to her jaw. This whole conversation is so incredibly dangerous for me. And I know I should tell her that it's fine, to stop there and then go to sleep before I have to hear the words that I know will crush me.

But for some reason, I ask, "What should I think?"

She blushes and looks down, and hope flutters in my chest, but I don't let it show.

"Not that," she mutters, a shy smile curving her lips.

I bite the inside of my cheeks. I think she's saying it, but I can't afford to be wrong. My brain is screaming to be patient, to let her declare it when she's ready, and however she wants. I won't take this from her. But my heart wants to hear it, know it, so much.

We're quiet for a while, lightly feeling each other as I brush her hair back and her fingertips draw random lines on my chest. I scoot down so I can see her eyes, and they're calm and unguarded, so bright and open and I can't _not _ask.

"Do you?" I ask softly and she smiles, biting her lip as her cheeks flush, and then she nods.

I swallow thickly and give her half a smile, because there's only so much I can make myself hold back.

I shouldn't say anything else. I can live on that smile and that nod for the next hundred years and that should be enough because it's more than I ever thought I'd get from her. But I am a study in masochism and selfishness, because my stupid mouth grins and says, "Tell me."

"You first," she whispers back and I chuckle.

"Oh no, I went first a long time ago."

"Damon, that's not fair," she pouts and I laugh again.

I can't believe that we're having this conversation at three A.M., naked in our dark bedroom. I actually can't quite trust that we're having this conversation at all, but of all the places I expected, somehow this never made the list.

I lean closer so my lips brush hers, and her heart is pounding. Her eyelashes flutter closed, and I breathe, "Tough."

Her eyes open and narrow at me, and I kiss her once anyways just to rile her up more before I roll onto my back, stretching out comfortably with a hand casually pillowing my head. I study the ceiling while watching her out of the corner of my eye, and her mouth is glaring at me but her gaze is sweet, her emotions trapped by a body locked in stubbornness.

She finally picks one over the other when she scoots closer so she's pressed against me, her hand finding mine by my hip and our fingers tangling together. I stay perfectly still when she leans down so her warm breath is bouncing over my neck, and she pauses for a long time before very, very quietly, she whispers it in my ear.

And I know they're just words, that they shouldn't be my entire world and make me want to do crazy, impulsive things for her, but I can't help it. Somewhere in me is still the sucker of a human that was blindly romantic to a fault, who wanted to find a woman like her to take care of and to worship, and she knows exactly how to find him in me.

I give myself one second to really smile as I squeeze her hand, my cool smirk back in place when she tilts back to look at me.

"Your turn," she teases and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"No thanks," I shrug. "I'm good."

Her mouth gapes and I gasp in fake shock, before she purses her lips against a laugh that I know is dying to come out.

"You are such an ass!" she says before flopping onto her back beside me, arms tightly crossed.

I roll on top of her and now I really am smiling, because this is too much fun. "Yep, and you love me for it."

She scowls and looks away, pretending to ignore me when I kiss her cheek because that always, always softens her up. And true to form she peeks at me before giving up and facing me completely, her hands gripping my shoulders and shaking them in frustration.

"You can't even say it once?"

"I have said it." I kiss her pouted lips, but she doesn't kiss me back. I wasn't really expecting any different.

She bites her bottom lip as she scrutinizes me. "You do, right? Love me?"

She's being ridiculous. If there is one blind truth that everyone we've ever met knows, it's that I'm in love with her. I pinch two fingers together where she can see, leaving barely a quarter of an inch between them and wrinkling my nose.

She glares and bats my hand away. "I take it all back," she says grumpily. "I hate you."

"How much?" I grin.

"So much."

"Aww," I croon and she rolls her eyes at me. "Softy."

She shoves me onto my back and grabs her pillow as she settles astride me, swatting me with it as I chuckle and block through her half-hearted assault. Her voice is a string of "Why do I even bother?" and "You are so mean!" and "See if I ever tell you I love you again…" all separated by frustrated growls that may be the cutest thing I've ever heard from her.

She finally finishes and tosses the pillow down with a huff, and I hug my arms around her so she's effectively trapped.

"Let me go, jerk. I'm going to sleep."

"Nope," I smile and flare my eyes. "You're all mine now. And you wanna know why?"

"Hell no."

"_Well_," I say dramatically, "if you're going to be like that, then fine."

I unlock my hands from behind her back and lace them behind my head, and she scowls at me for a moment before leaning down and placing one super short kiss on my lips. She immediately rolls off and settles herself under the comforter, punching her pillow with her back to me.

"Night, Elena," I say cheerfully, and she petulantly mumbles the same in return before yanking at her pillow again.

I let her toss and kick at the sheets for a good three minutes before finally moving so I'm behind her, sliding an arm under her neck. I wrap it back around her chest, my other arm draped over her stomach and pulling her hips against mine. I stroke her skin lovingly with my thumbs, kissing her shoulder and neck, and her hands move to cover mine.

I thread my fingers through Elena's and grip them tightly, resting my cheek over hers so she can feel my smile. I bring our joined hands up from her hip, supporting them in front of us, and my right hand joins them so I'm cradling her palm snugly between mine. Slow and tender, I caress the back of her hand, feeling the softness of her skin and the gentle rise of her knuckles. I run my fingertips up to her nails and lose myself in how smooth they are, in their graceful slope from being shaped naturally.

The pads of my fingertips settle between hers, and carefully, my right hand begins to move.

I trail down the inside of her fingers until I'm stroking and dancing over the whole area of her palm. And when I need more I slide my hand against the entirety of hers, feeling how small it is in comparison and how easily it shifts and molds to accommodate mine. How absolutely precious she is.

Elena turns fractionally toward me and I guide her onto her side so we're facing, her leg drawing up over my hip so we're wrapped in each other. I cradle her face, sweeping my thumb over her lips and allowing how much I care about her to be read in every facet of my expression. She's so beautiful and I lean close enough to brush my lips against hers, just the faintest tickle before the pressure builds and I know the exact firmness of her mouth, where the line that guards her breath matches my own and it's a seamless fit.

I softly whisper the words into her mouth and she gasps, as though she's sealing them somewhere inside of her, where she can protect them. And when I pull away to see her eyes, there is no joking, no games, no sarcasm or fear or hesitancy or any of the other things we've ever let in our way.

It's simply trust.

A genuine understanding that everything we feel, we're feeling it together. That no one will ever understand the depth of our connection, how much _more_ it is, because they couldn't. It is a secret that only we know, and as scary as it is to be this vulnerable, to open yourself so wholly to another person, there's comfort in us doing it together.

And we know: nothing will be the same after this because these words aren't just a declaration.

They are a vow.

* * *

*_ Thus Spoke Zarathustra_ by Friedrich Nietzsche

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**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I really am having way too much fun with this story! And we still have a few more chapters to go and an epilogue that I've been dying to post for FOREVER, so don't forget to click those buttons, because these characters do some wonky, cute stuff when allowed to roam wild and free. **

**In other exciting news, _Unthinkable_ is now on Kindle Worlds on Amazon by me (!) _C. L. Marlene. _And honestly, it would mean so much to me for those of you who read that story to possibly go rate it and/or leave a review on Amazon. You don't have to purchase the book to comment or rate it, but it makes all the difference when new readers are seeing it for the first time to hear what others thought. And because I HATE that I'm even asking this of you guys, I'm going to figure out a way to make it up to y'all. Maybe an early posting of chapter 10. Possibly writing an AU/AH (*cough*) that will commence as soon as this story marks completion. Maybe the first chapter of the AU/AH will go up before the epilogue for this one. Maybe all of the above. We'll see ;) **

**Love you all, and thanks so much for your support. See you soon! **

**-Goldnox**


	10. Love, Presented By Jif

**A/N: You guys are so great, so here is your extra quick chapter as promised ;)**

**Trogdor19, you are the coolest beta ever. Wanna know why? Because I have to look up words like "plebian" to understand your compliments I mean comments. Always get a beta that's smarter than you, folks. It does everything good.**

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**Chapter 10: Love, Presented by Jif**

"No way," Elena laughs, her chest shaking lightly against my back.

The only thing better than seeing her smile is feeling it in her whole body as I recline against her in the tub, her arms draped over my shoulders and hands absent-mindedly running a foamy loofah over my chest. I smile as my head continues to rest lazily against her shoulder, my fingertips drawing patterns through the bubbles on her leg.

"Thank you, thank you very much," I say in my Elvis impersonation and she laughs again, but she also pinches my nipple and I flinch with a hiss. "Hey! He deserved it. Fucker stole my moves."

"First of all," she starts in her lecture voice, "no one deserves to get beaten up over dance moves." I shrug. "And second, I know you think I'm gullible, but that one's pushing it."

"You really thought Forrest Gump taught Elvis how to do that? Please," I scoff. "And you can't be too mad at me, because after I rearranged his ribs-"

"Damon!"

"I gave him something he liked even_ better_ than hip swivels to charm his way into a few skirts."

"Pray, do tell," she says mockingly.

"Be nice, or I'm not telling you any more stories," I warn, peeking back to look at her and she pouts like I knew she would.

"I'll be good," she whispers, and shifts forward to kiss me.

Her lips are soft and luscious, a hazy caress that I'm entirely melted into when her hand comes up to settle on my jaw, delicately keeping me in check before I get carried away any further. She pulls her lips away but bumps her nose against mine, and I grumble when I resettle against her, facing forward.

I close my eyes and let my pulse calm to match hers, drifting through the slow circular passes of her lathering my chest and shoulders.

"So, what did you give him?" she asks after a minute.

"Give who what?"

"Elvis," she says with a smile in her voice.

"Peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

"You are such a liar!" she teases and I grin, wrapping my arm under her leg so I can hold it closer to me. "His mom made him those, not some vamp boogie-woogie fairy godfather."

I snort. "Sure she did. Because why tell the world that you got your ass kicked for being a boogie-woogie thief, and then got addicted to _my_ fucking sandwich. Which he only got his hands on because he stole that too."

"Whatever, Damon. Next you'll tell me that all of Hitchcock's ideas were yours, and you just compelled him to make your movies."

I look back at her. "That fucker was nuts by the time I met him, I take no responsibility for that. Although, I may want to." She rolls her eyes and I turn back around, tilting my head in memory. "But all things considered and despite having sticky fingers, Elvis wasn't a half bad guy."

"I still say you're a liar. Wanna know why?"

"Sure," I nod. "Blow my fables wide open, sweetheart. We'll get you a trench coat and a magnifying glass, and you'll be the cutest detective anyone's ever seen."

"You hate peanut butter," she tells me and I reach back to cup her neck, my fingers threading through the fine hairs that fell out of her chaotic mess of a bun. I lightly begin to massage her scalp and she hums contentedly, her heartbeat flirting with its sleep setting.

"Opposite," I say quietly. "Crazy addicted to the stuff so I hardly eat it. To me it's worse than blood, and living with a spoon in your mouth is not exactly sexy."

She laughs quietly and I relax a little more, pulling her down to me so I can kiss her. She nips at my bottom lip and I growl playfully, grazing my tongue across her teeth and she sucks in a breath.

I win.

She glares at me and I smirk, and all is right in the world.

And thank God, because it's not like I've been lying to her, but sometimes she gets a little upset when she realizes that what she knows about me is not always the indisputable truth. It's not her fault, I've never told anybody this stuff because it's none of their business. But she wants to make it hers, and I'm oddly okay with that.

"Peanut butter junkie, huh?" she teases and I nod.

"Yep. I'd probably trade you in for some if the jar was big enough."

"Yikes, remind me to keep you away from Costco," she says and lets go of the loofah, and I snicker when it tickles my stomach. "I once saw a jar _this big_," she tells me and widens the space between her hands to fit a beach ball.

"Ugh, don't tease me," I say dramatically and she giggles, hugging her arms around me.

"And it was the creamy kind too," she whispers.

"God, that shit is the best. Distract me, woman. It's for your own good."

"Can't, got stuff to do," she tells me and kisses my neck, then her hands move to my shoulders and urge me forward.

I sit up, very reluctantly, and she gets out of the tub. "Where are you going?" I whine as she slides past my outstretched hand that's reaching for her.

"We are out of shampoo and conditioner, and I need more suntan lotion," she says while toweling off, an act that is crazy seductive even though I'm a little ticked that I'm watching it at all.

"I put those bubbles there, and you are ruining my artwork," I scowl as she begins running the cloth down her legs.

"Oh no, what are we ever going to do? Because you get _one_ chance to cover me with bubbles, and that was your shot," she says and frowns, and I narrow my eyes at her. "Stop that, I'm only going to be gone for a little while, and then you can practice your artwork later. And don't act like you're not waiting to refold the laundry I did yesterday," she winks and saunters out of the bathroom.

"You can't distract me with the reminder that you don't appreciate the correct way to put away jeans so the crease isn't off center."

"Mm-hmm."

I scoff and lean back in the hot water, stretching out defiantly.

She comes back in a minute later, shorts and tank top on, and checks her reflection in the mirror. She wears very little makeup at home, eye shadow and lip gloss if anything at all, but she's stopped wearing it completely while we're here and I'm all for it. It's rare to find a girl anymore that carries that self-confidence, and she doesn't need that stuff anyways. Her lashes are long and dark, her skin flawless, and with how she's always halfway to a blush, it seems redundant to fake it.

She wipes at the skin under her eyes and tweaks her hair, then bats her hand at herself in a silent self-brushoff before turning around and leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

"You want anything?" she asks and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, I want you undressed and back in the tub with me."

She rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom again.

"Bye!" I yell out sarcastically, and get nothing in return.

Real nice, Elena.

But instead of the door closing that leads to the garage, there's a drawer and cabinet shutting in the kitchen and then her quiet footsteps heading back to where I am.

She comes back in and perches on the edge of the tub, and I barely resist the urge to pull her in with her clothes on. She saves herself when she hands me a wine bottle and a corkscrew, trading me the empty glass she also brought once I've got the bottle open. She waits until I'm done pouring a generous amount before taking the wine back and setting it down next to the tub, and when I take a drink, she smiles.

Okay, I admit, that was kinda awesome. But she's still dressed.

She takes my free hand that's resting on the edge of the tub and timidly sneaks her fingers through mine, twisting them around and just sort of playing with us being connected and dammit, she's winning and she knows it.

"Sure you don't want anything?" she asks softly and I realize I do know what I want, and it doesn't have anything to do with her being naked.

"Bring me my jeans?" I ask just as quietly. "The ones I wore yesterday."

Attitude flares through her posture. "Seriously? It's not like I'm gonna wreck the car, Damon."

"Oh God, don't remind me you're driving my car." I visibly shiver and wait for her assault, but none comes.

Instead, she tells me all wide eyed and innocent, "Please? I've really missed that sound when I jump from second gear to fourth. The purr of a happy transmission…"

"Gilbert," I warn her, and her eyes get that devious gleam that turns me on just as much as it scares the shit out of me.

"Remind me again: it's important to grind the gears because it's good for them, right? Keeps 'em nice and loose?"

"Not funny, not even the littlest bit," I tell her. "Now, do me a favor and bring me what I asked for before I change my mind and refuse to give you the car keys."

"You mean these car keys?" she grins and dangles them at me.

"Yes," I say. "Jeans, go."

"You're a big boy, get them yourself," she tests and when I move to stand she pops up, backing towards the bedroom.

"Okay, okay! Someone's getting spoiled," she mocks and I roll my eyes, stretching back out.

She comes right back with the pants in question and I set down my glass, digging super subtly in the back pocket while she watches curiously. I finally find the one I'm looking for and toss the jeans aside, and her amused smile falls completely off when she spies the American Express logo.

"Nuh-uh," she starts and I ignore her.

"Rules," I say and point the card at her. "Lingerie is black, unless you can convince me otherwise. Nothing pink, and _no weapons_, unless the first stipulation can be satisfied. Other than that, have fun and call me if you go over five or if anyone gives you any problems."

"Five dollars. _Wow_. And by the way, you're_ crazy_ and I resent being treated like I'm 'Pretty Woman' because I don't recall applying for a sugar daddy, thank you very much."

"First, add three more zeros and you're there. Second, I don't care what you applied for. This is what you get because you are a _very _pretty woman," I say smoothly and she huffs. "Now go, I have wine to drink and you're disrupting me." I fling the card at her and she catches it reflexively.

"Damon…"

"Bring back something cute. Or dirty. Preferably both," I tell her with a wink.

She bites her lip and shifts her weight, then that damn mischievous gleam comes back and I have a sudden impulse to snatch my credit card away from her.

"You really want a puppy, covered in mud? He'll love the boarding house, so many rugs to roll on…"

"Hilarious."

She kneels down beside the tub and hands me my glass. "A kitten? How about a baby chick? They're adorable."

"The only chick that better come back through that door is you," I tell her pointedly and take a drink.

"You sure you don't want to come?" She blushes and looks down, and I tuck in a loose hair that's worked itself free from her bun.

"Yep."

She peeks back up at me. "You're gonna go all nuts dusting and waxing the floors, aren't you?"

"Bye, Elena," I say quietly, and she purses her lips together before she kisses me.

"Bye," she tells me and then she's walking away.

I wait until I hear her open the door leading to the garage before I call out, "Don't ruin my clutch!"

"What's a clutch?"

The house door shuts, followed by the driver's door and the garage slowly opening, and then she's starting the car and revving the engine. And even though I am shaking my head, I'll be damned if I'm not smiling and fairly aroused at the mental image.

Until she mutters, "Why do you need a second brake for parking? So weird…" and I groan. "Bye, Damon," she says in her sugar-sweet voice through eight different walls because she knows I'll hear, and I listen with a cringe on standby while she backs out. But there's no scraping or crashing, no cursing or crying, just a controlled acceleration until the sound of eight rumbling cylinders fades away.

She swears Daddy Gilbert made her a pro at handling a manual transmission, but I've never seen the evidence of it because…yeah, no. I've seen what she's done with an automatic, and I'm a little over-protective of my car, and even more so of her. But she also knows both those facts firsthand, and I'm gonna take a leap of faith and trust that if she didn't think she could get herself and the Camaro back in one piece, she wouldn't dare to venture off on her own.

Besides, she needs to get out, explore, and I won't tell her because the last thing she needs is for me to make a big deal out of this, but I'm kind of proud of her. Key West is small, but she doesn't _know_ it and there won't be Daddy or me guiding her around. I've seen small town girls freeze up like they're walking the plank the first time they're left alone in a strange city. My girl charges in like a bull fighter, and without the protective camouflage of makeup. Hoo rah.

I raise my glass to Elena, the Fearless Badass, and take a drink.

I bet she'd look sexy as hell in a little matador outfit.

* * *

She's been gone for three hours, and I'm more than ready for her to come back home and play with me because I'm so _bored_.

I ended up trading the bath tub for the ocean because I needed a change of scenery and on my own I can swim far and deep without coming up for air. But that only reminded me that I need to ask her how uncomfortable she is with SCUBA diving and if it's going to give her near-drowning flashbacks. We may just need to save that for another trip altogether, because I am not looking forward to that minefield of a conversation.

After I reacquainted myself with solid land and caught up on a backlog of push-ups and sit-ups to keep me pretty, I remembered I'm a dumbass because she was right and we are out of shampoo and conditioner. I showered anyways, but I still feel gross. So I cleaned everything else I could get my hands on.

I have successfully redone the laundry like she knew I would, swept, dusted, mopped and vacuumed. I have also washed every dish in this house regardless of the state it was in when found, and all of that only kept me busy for an hour.

Magic time-killing solution number three? Lay on the couch with my book, but forget to read and instead just think about last night.

I still can't believe she said it. And even just saying it in my_ mind_ makes me short circuit for a moment.

Elena. Loves. _Me._

I roll my shoulders and try to shake off the shiver that just tingled down my spine, because any time I've felt it, thought I saw it, I made myself push the idea away. I didn't want to get swept up in everything that's happened, how far we've come in such a short amount of time.

But we _have_ come a long way from outright resisting the connection between us to now comfortably reveling in it. It's a total mind fuck to think that two weeks ago, I couldn't touch her in the daylight. There were no lazy bubble baths, a single kiss translating to a hot and heavy make-out session on the couch that concludes with us tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap. And even before when the clocks would strike midnight and her window would slide open, whatever happened in her darkened bedroom wasn't like what happened in ours last night.

Everything was…different. It felt a lot like the first time we were together, but _more_. I never seemed able to touch her everywhere I needed to and I got lost in the strangest of places, tiny crosswalks of skin and bridges to nowhere that suddenly were everything that had ever mattered. She'd never felt as _mine_, as though once she said those words it was a deadbolt turned and it was done.

Just like that. Simple. Clean. Absolute.

And I can't even imagine what she thinks about it all, what she _was _thinking, because she's never been like that. Just as much as I was lost in her, Elena was adrift in us. I can't recall a time that she has gone so slow, been so sure, in how she's touched me. Her eyes followed her wandering fingertips, but instead of tracing defined lines and hard muscles, it was the rare soft spots on my body that seemed to fascinate her. The space on my side just above my hip, the lowest part of my stomach that I can never seem to tone, the hollow inside my shoulder that she sleeps on.

I think she was claiming me for her own in every way she could think to do.

This morning I woke up with her snuggled into my back, her forehead pressing between my shoulder blades and a leg and arm wound possessively over my side.

I _felt_ like I was hers.

We stayed in bed a long time, just being quiet and close. And we were both awake, it just…it was better without words. Shifting an arm here, a leg there, scooting higher in the pillow and then sliding further down the sheets. Sometimes we faced each other, just looking. Smiling. Then she'd turn over or I would, but we never let the other go and eventually it would all change around again.

We just didn't want to go anywhere else. I think we were both afraid that as soon as our feet touched the floor, something would change.

It didn't.

Breakfast was less serious, but I could still feel it hovering between us. Despite our wonderfully absurd morning routine.

Elena caught on quickly that I'm not big on talking a lot in the mornings, and she found a way to fill the silence that I'm more than okay with. She plays music. And the biggest surprise? We actually _both_ like what she puts on.

It's some obscure station she found, playing unique but not weird, chill electronica that's a little bit dancey and carries some R&B influence buried in there. The artists' voices are soft like a lullaby, but the lyrics are usually decent and the beats are good, and it matches the optimistic daylight in the kitchen, without making me feel like I want to go buy a yellow sweater vest and build a treehouse for the neighborhood kids.

So while she gets the tunes a-rollin', I shop our ingredients in the pantry and when we meet at the island, the show begins.

I'm trying to rectify her butchering any food product that is not two parts butter and one part sugar, and she's doing okay. But I'm starting to wonder if she's faking her lack of skills at this point, and only because of how much she enjoys the student/teacher process we've adopted.

I told her that if you don't love your food as you cook it, it won't love you back. And a very important part of the courting process was having fun.

So whenever we cook, we dance. She loves it and never stops smiling, and I am firmly on board with this arrangement since it's an excuse to keep her close. Talk about bonus, because I have a tendency to be a little clingy before my coffee kicks in, and she's always patient with me when I refuse to let her go.

I'll stand behind Elena and guide her with my hands over hers until she's confident in whatever we're making, both of us letting the highs and lows of the baseline roll through our spines, and we always fit. But sometimes she forgets what we're _actually_ doing and that's fine too. Because she becomes more concerned with reaching up with one hand to run her fingers through the hair at my neck, utterly lost in the sway of lyrics she's whispering.

And she's such a blast, because when we need something like a spoon or a plate, I take her hand and nudge her hip, spinning her out so she can grab it and then she twirls right back. And if there's a hint of salsa in the song that's playing? She will shimmy and work every single step until I'm trying to figure out what I can pretend to need next, just so I have an excuse to watch her do it again. And she totally lets me get away with it. Even Elena knows no one needs four spatulas to flip an omelet.

We will eventually dance our way up the stairs because we always eat on the deck, letting conversation slip between the crashes of waves until we're both staring off into space or at each other. And after a while we will move to do something else, but we always take our time. It's not like we have anything pressing to rush to.

Life is gloriously slow right now, and it's nice. It makes it easier to appreciate.

Because not once today have we said anything about what we told each other. Not this morning when we were lying in bed, while dancing in the kitchen, or even during our re-enactment of junior high hormones in our impromptu couch make-out extravaganza. We didn't say a thing about it after having playful, giggly sex on the living room floor, or in the languid bath that followed.

But every time she looks at me and gives me a smile I'm only beginning to become familiar with, I now have a name for it.

* * *

A door shuts quietly, and it pulls me back into awareness. I wonder how long I've been asleep. I shift on the couch and expect to hear my book fall on the floor, but realize the weight is missing from my chest.

"Elena?" I say and yawn, and there's no response. Huh.

I didn't hear the car, but I swore I heard a door close.

I rub my eyes and open them, and when I glance around my gaze stops on the coffee table.

My book is closed, bookmark in place. And sitting right beside it is an intricately designed, tiny black tote bag with a sin-red ribbon masquerading as the handle.

I smile and shake my head, sitting up and planting my feet on the floor. You can always tell the caliber of a place by their post-purchase packaging, and whatever lingerie she bought from a boutique I've never heard of promises to be something I won't likely be forgetting.

Of course it's only a hunch, because the bag is empty save for a brand new jar of creamy Jif peanut butter, and a spoon.

She's unreal.

My head tilts when I see a little piece of paper under the jar, and I reach in and take it out.

_It's okay to love yourself a little. I won't tell._

My smile grows and I swallow. I carefully set down the note and the bag, relaxing against the cushions with the jar and the spoon, resting my feet on the coffee table. Which I never do, but fuck it. She doesn't care.

I take my time opening the lid and I'm swarmed with the aroma of salty creamy gooiness, and it only intensifies when I pull off the seal. I realize I'm staring at peanut butter like a complete freak, but it's not my fault. There's a perfect little swirl in the center and I almost hate to ruin it. I actually debate for a moment just to close it back up, because it's not that—

Where did she find scissors? I distinctively just heard the sound of scissors snipping something in our bedroom.

I look towards the room and then glance back at the jar and frown. But I don't smell any blood, and there's no screaming, not even a gasp, so she must be fine.

I risk scooping a small dollop on the spoon and score a perfect 10 from the judges when I turn it over expertly and stick the dismount, letting it sit on my tongue.

Oh holy fuck.

Something between a moan and a sigh melts out of my throat while heaven dissolves on my tongue, and that's just stupid it's so fucking good.

Yeah, that thing about not being able to love her more than when she's cleaning the kitchen in a bikini? Wrong. So wrong.

Can't love her more than when she gives me peanut butter, and lets me go all spastic over it privately. Because I'm having some sort of weird orgasmic religious experience and it's all her doing, and she's going to know that feeling about two minutes after I get into the bedroom.

Possibly faster than that since she got the _creamy_, which is like…there are no words. Because crunchy is fine but the peanuts get stuck in your teeth and that's exactly why I always avoid them in the trail mix she makes whenever we watch movies, and _Christ_.

She really does love me.

* * *

**A/N: A GREAT BIG JAR OF CREAMY JIF PEANUT BUTTER FOR ALL OF YOU. YEP. *blows kisses* See you next chapter! **

**-Goldnox**


	11. Hidden in Plain Sight

**A/N: Good morning, sweethearts! Are you as excited as I am for next week's episode? AHHHHHH! Well, in the meantime, here's some more Delena fluff for you to munch on.**

**All my love and thanks to Trogdor19 for beta'ing this, and who amazes me by knowing long, complicated words at the drop of a hat, and who can accomplish the Mountain Top and Happy Baby in a pool. With spectators. *awe***

* * *

**Chapter 11: Hidden in Plain Sight**

"You weren't kidding. This Nizzy guy needed so much therapy," Elena says dramatically from the couch, her head tilted like she's contemplating turning the book upside down to see if it would make more sense.

"Nietzsche," I tell her while drying my hands with a kitchen towel. "And like I would lie about that."

"How can you read this?" she asks, and she actually _does_ turn the book upside down.

I smile and shake my head, wishing I had more dishes to wash but alas, that was the last of them.

I roll my neck and my shoulders, tossing the towel down on the counter. Time to get this meltdown on the road.

I pad my way into the living room, picking up her outstretched feet so when I sit on the sofa I can lay them across my lap.

"Ridiculous," she mutters and closes the book like it's insulting her, tossing it on the coffee table. She closes her eyes and stretches out more comfortably, humming happily and propping a hand behind her head when I begin to work my thumb into the arch of her foot.

"Feel good?" I ask and she nods slowly.

"I'd feel a lot better if you told me what has you so stressed out," she says casually and I pause, "but you can't win 'em all."

"You lost me at 'stressed,'" I fib and switch to her other foot to cover my surprise at being busted.

"Then why do you keep rolling your neck every three minutes?"

I roll my eyes at her confident tone, because at least with hers closed she can't see my reaction.

"Saw that," she smiles and I squint at her, but her eyes are definitely closed.

How does she _do _that?

"What's the verdict, Salvatore? Instant death; long, drawn-out torture; or possible maiming with a fair chance of escape?"

"The third wouldn't be a reason to worry because we can fix maiming, and 'a fair chance of escape' equals not going to be caught in the first place because the culprit is obviously a moron," I tell her, and she scoffs.

"So are we dying today or tomorrow?"

I wiggle her pinkie toe. "Can Elena come out to play? Because whoever this doppelganger is may be hot, but she's freaking me the fuck out," I tell her and she opens her eyes, but her unconcerned smile is still going strong.

"You rang?"

I switch back to her right foot and she moans when I gently increase the pressure of her massage. "Do you know what today is?"

"Nope," she grins, and she sounds like she couldn't be happier about it.

Great. I love being an asshole.

"Thursday," I say seriously.

"Friday must be so jealous," she pouts mockingly, and I cock an eyebrow, my hands stilling. "Damon, what is the big…" She trails off and it takes her three breaths for her face to fully change. It starts in her eyes, something dimming a bit, then the height of her cheekbones drops when her mouth straightens and continues curving downwards. The whole thing is a painful transformation in slow motion.

I stretch my arm across the back of the couch, tapping my fingertips uneasily.

It's not like this should be that big of a surprise. I told her when we first got here how long we had the house for, but we both agreed that we were really playing it by ear. If we felt like leaving, we would. Same went for staying.

Until I got a text from Ric this morning rudely awakening me to the fact that Elena starts school next week. Something I was not aware of because it's not like I was getting a newsletter from the PTA before we left, and she hasn't said a word about it.

I would have preferred not to have been blindsided, but it's too late to bother being upset about it. The real issue is that I figured she'd be completely fed up with me and homesick after about a week, but instead she's so comfortable and content here that I know she doesn't want to go.

I'm not ready to let this go either: having her all to myself, the way she's comfortable in showing anything and everything she feels for me without worrying about who is watching and disapproving. But more than that, she's started to change and I feel like I'm robbing her of something by taking her back.

Because she's begun to find who she is without the pressure of living up to other people's expectations, discovering what she wants and likes when she puts herself first and she needs time to discover those things, who she's _going_ to be. She's at that point when her world is shifting and it has nothing to do with spells and creatures born from nightmares or who is kissing her goodnight, she's just at that age.

At least here she doesn't have to be the sister, the daughter, the friend or the doppelganger or the school's queen bee or anything but the emerging woman that peeks out when she lets all the walls come down.

And that's all I want from her, _for_ her: honesty. The bubbly, insatiable, sarcastic, stubborn and bitchy and devious, naturally beautiful truth.

The worst part of the whole thing is that I have to be the one to break her bubble. Which really fucking sucks. So yeah, I've been on edge all morning trying to figure out when I should remind her.

Tell her now and hope she bounces back enough to still enjoy the time we have left?

Or let her be cheerful and oblivious, and drop the bomb on her first thing Saturday morning?

Truth is, I'm fucked either way.

And I know that because she hasn't said a word in over two minutes, just biting her lip and staring at her twisting hands in her lap.

"How did I lose track of the days like that?" she asks quietly, and I shrug.

"Happens."

Her brow furrows and she swallows. "Saturday."

"Yep."

I slide my hand from her foot up to her calf, massaging her leg gently and when she looks up at me, I jerk my chin at her and I know she hears me.

Because she sighs and shifts a bit before admitting, "I don't want to go."

"So we stay and I tutor you into a GED. Not the worst crime we've ever committed."

She winces and looks down, her voice quiet when she asks, "Are you mad?"

"Furious," I deadpan. "Tonight, you will be sleeping outside. On a bed of rocks."

I get half a smile, and then one of her hands turns over, a single finger curving towards herself in an invitation I'd never refuse.

I adjust her legs around me, laying forward so my head rests comfortingly on her stomach, my cheek sliding against the silky fabric of her dress. Her hands weave into my hair as I wind an arm under her waist, hooking another around her thigh. She squirms when I tickle my fingertips up her smooth leg beneath her skirt, her body re-settling when I caress my palm back down her skin.

She takes a deep breath, and for some reason I find myself wishing it was darker and not blindingly bright in here, the midday sun pouring in through the back windows like a mocking smile as it blankets us.

It's like birds singing at a funeral. Some things are just…inappropriate.

"What's the real problem?" I ask softly.

"Losing moments like this."

I swallow, and it takes me three breaths before I ask, "We going to?"

"Not because I want to," she says and I grit my teeth, methodically counting my heartbeats to try willing them into slowing down. "_This,_" she says and hugs me with her body, "is what I want. But things feel different here."

I clear my throat, and she answers as if I asked a question when she says, "I don't know, Damon. Just safer, I guess." She pauses for a minute before whispering, "This is what home should feel like."

I close my eyes with a sigh. That word means so many things to me, different than it is for her. When I was her age, home was a prison. Disappointment and failed expectations and confusion. Pain. I'll never forget watching it burn to the ground. How free I felt.

And as much as the whole Norman Rockwell life made me want to constantly gag in the forties and fifties, if I am very, very honest, and where no one can see me, I know why.

Because I still remember the quiet of my house in Boston, when the sun would set and cars would all pull into the other driveways one after another. Kids running out the front door to greet their fathers coming home from work, gracious and gorgeous women watching from the doorways. It's probably not too far from what she experienced growing up.

Doctor father, mother who was a professional wife and active in the community. A life lived for the care of your family.

I wasn't much older than Jeremy when Giuseppe made it clear that I was no longer part of his family, and even at that age, I knew making my own as soon as possible would be the best way to stop the pain. To have a wife to love and that would love me in return, children that I could praise and foster how I saw fit. A unit that was bonded by something my father couldn't break, and I couldn't wait.

Everything shifted and those ideas got lost in blood and fangs, and that's okay. I'm not that guy anymore anyways. Too much death can take that from you. But I was still born in the nineteenth century, and that warps your view on a lot of other things, especially when it comes to commitment.

Devotion is iron tight. No room to waver. It's not like today's world where people divorce every six months because the grass is greener and all that shit. There is one shade of grass and all the rest is poison, and you couldn't be happier about it.

So just because the home she's talking about feels more like a forgotten dream than a possibility, it doesn't mean I don't remember and I do want those things for her. Comfort, security, the peace of mind that the person you're coming home to is the one thing you don't have to worry about. I have no idea if I'm capable of giving any of that to her, but the scariest part is that she may not give me a chance to find out.

"Home can feel like this, Elena," I say quietly, pressing a kiss into her stomach. "It's just an address, unless you let it be something else."

"Like what?"

My hands grip her tighter, as if they're afraid. Sometimes, I hate my hands.

"An excuse."

She sucks in a breath and her heart thuds strongly, angrily. "You think I'm not going to love you once we get home?" she whispers and I wince.

"It's fine," I lie.

"No, it's not," she says fiercely and I shrug. "That is _not_ going to happen, Damon."

"Fine."

She bumps her knee against me and I look up at her, letting her search my face for a minute before I huff and roll my eyes at her apologetic expression, laying my head back down.

"Why are you being so 'Whatever' about this?" she says all hurt and confused and I turn my head, hiding my face in her dress.

I shrug again and she sighs.

"Always assuming the worst," she mutters and my dumb hands squeeze her tighter. "Damon?"

"What?"

"You still going to love me when we leave?"

It's not even a serious question, it's more like a taunt because her voice isn't worried or self-conscious, it has that same flirty-adorable pitch she uses when she asks me if she looks pretty and she damn well knows the answer is yes.

I huff and she wiggles like it tickled. "Did long before we came down here, not exactly planning on stopping. Geography is not that important to me," I mumble and her hands tangle in my hair, twirling the short strands around her dainty fingers.

"Well who says I care about it?" she says playfully and I breathe a smile. "We could be in Washington for all I know. What coast are we on again?"

"A new one," I tell her and she laughs quietly.

"Okay, so in the grand tradition of setting up new territories, this is what we are going to do."

"Oh God, she's got a plan," I groan. "Let me get my gas mask and make sure the bunker is stocked."

"It's a good thing you've got such a nice ass, because I'm not sure if I could love you for your humor alone," she tells me and something in me relaxes a little more. "So, back to my plan of how we are going to soak up every minute of being here instead of moping around like a couple of bumps on a grumpy log."

"Gross. That makes it sound like we need penicillin," I say and she ignores me.

"Step One: We are going to re-christen each room in this house."

"Count me in."

"Step Two is swim until we drop, and Three is to drink a dangerous amount of rare and expensive wine, just because we can."

If the next words she says are peanut butter cookies, I may just say fuck it and propose.

"And when we go home," she adds, "I will go to school during the day and miss you terribly, and instead of paying attention in class I will be daydreaming about you in those crazy hot sunglasses and counting the minutes until I can get you in my bed."

I look up at her and narrow my eyes. "You really do only want me for my ass, don't you?"

"Actually, I just keep you around for your car," she teases and bats her eyelashes.

"Nice, Elena."

"And what are _you_ going to do during the long hours in which I am required to be Susie High School?"

"Drink. _No_," I amend, "plot how I'm going to convince you to leave the country with me. How's your passport status?"

"Wanted, and extremely dangerous."

"Not mine," I sigh and she giggles softly. "Yours."

"Non-existent."

"Figures. We're fixing that."

"Ooh! Where are we going? And more importantly, _when_?" she says impatiently and I tilt my head.

"You get some time over Christmas," I tell her and she nods her confirmation excitedly. "Jakarta?"

"That sounds fun," she grins and I lay my head back down. "But…"

"Fine," I grunt. "Jeremy, maybe Ric to play babysitter, but if they screw with our sex life I'm going to be pissed."

"You're the best," she tells me dreamily. "Um, Damon?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's Jakarta?"

I snort. "Yeah, we really do need to get you back in school."

"Stop being a jerk before I cancel Phase One of my brilliant plan."

"Actually, we're going to delay that a bit."

"We're _what_?" she screeches and I love her so much for that.

"We need to run into town for a bit. Maybe grab some lunch, do a _little_ bit of shopping, and if you're really good, I may even let you drive."

"What is so important that you're putting off getting laid? _And_ offering to let me drive?"

I look up at her and bite my cheeks against a grin. "We need to get you a bigger suitcase."

"That's your fault, and it's not funny," she growls.

"It's a little funny," I tell her and the best part is she knows I'm telling the truth about the necessity of the matter. "As long as you had fun, I don't care."

"You're only saying that because of what I bought."

It's not the _only_ reason, but oh hells yes does the girl know how to buy some lingerie. That one little tote bag? I'm pretty sure it was for the receipt. And worth every damn penny. In fact…

"Tell you what. I really _will _let you drive if you take me to the devil's playground. Unless you cleaned it out and the only things left are some bare racks and empty shelves."

"I did no such thing," she grumbles and I smile.

"Perfect, then we're going," I say and she narrows her eyes at me.

"Make you a deal. I'll show you the store, if _you_ tell me what that Girl Scout said to get you to buy all those cookies."

"I'm pretty sure you don't have any issues with getting me to buy you _anything_."

"You know, there was this really sexy navy-blue corset that I bet you would've loved, but I changed my mind at the last minute." She shrugs. "Guess we'll never know…"

"That's just cruel," I scowl at her and she winks at me. "Fine. She made a play out of the Elena Gilbert handbook. You ready to go?"

"Nope. You want lace? I want details," she grins and I roll my eyes.

"Spoiled," I mumble. "Fine, she looked up at me with big brown doe eyes and I glared at her because she was a fucking kid and-"

"You glared at her?" she bursts out. "Did she cry?"

"Not exactly."

I stop there and Elena makes a face that I know good and well is the height of her stubbornness rearing its head.

"Dammit," I grumble. "You repeat this, and you're sleeping on rocks," I warn and she nods. "She…_blushed_."

Fucking hell, I am never going to hear the end of this. 'Cause Elena looks like she can't decide if she wants to laugh or coo at me because she_ knows_ how often she blushes at me. She has to.

And there she goes, cheeks turning pink and biting her lip…

I wonder if she can actually do that shit on demand.

"Stop that," I snap at her and push myself up from the couch.

"Damon," Elena whines. "Come on, don't go…"

I turn and start towards the bedroom, hearing her get up and running and I'm not even halfway to the doorway when she appears in front me, hooking her hands behind my neck and walking backwards to keep up with me. I let my hands find their place on her hips, and she pulls me in closer.

"You really do love me, don't you?" she grins and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" she pouts, fooling no one.

"Depends. On what you're wearing under this dress," I smirk and she gives me that coy 'Am I wearing my halo or my horns?' smile that is irresistible.

"And if I said _nothing_?" she breathes, and it's horns all the way.

"Then I'd say you just set Phase One firmly back in motion," I growl and kick our bedroom door closed behind us.

I slide my hands from her waist to her ass and there's no resistance under her skirt, no lines or bumps and I'm crazy hard at the idea of silk slipping over her bare skin. She stretches up on her toes to kiss me as I walk us towards the bed, her tongue diving hungrily into my mouth and yeah, we're not going anywhere.

"What about the suitcase?" she teases as I lay her down on the comforter, pushing her skirt up her thighs.

"Fuck it. We'll mail your stuff home."

I glance down and there's a baby-doll-pink triangle of silk where I wasn't expecting it, a rhinestone teardrop dangling from the bow and the world's thinnest straps clinging high on her hips above where my hands were holding her.

I slip my fingertips under the strings and follow them around to where they converge above her ass, hooking onto a rhinestone-studded heart and at the bottom point? One itty bitty strip trailing down and down and down it goes and I have _never_ in my life been so jealous of a pair of panties.

"I am completely convinced," I breathe with a grin and I'll be damned if she doesn't blush again. And the innocence in her expression combined with her screaming hot body, racy underwear under a floral-print dress I'd expect her to wear with a cardigan on Easter Sunday, just fucking slays me.

I kiss her deeply but I also need her everywhere at once, and when my tongue teases the curve of her neck she reaches down to unhook my jeans, my hand fisting into the comforter as she squeezes and strokes me.

"Just wait 'til you see the pure-white garter set, and the bra that matches," she says wickedly and my body jerks, my dick thrusting into her hands.

Girl is a goddess. A dirty, deviant goddess.

"The clasp is right between my breasts since it's racerback, so my shoulders are exposed for you to play with," she says huskily and my teeth ache at her deliberate taunting. I scrape my fangs over her collarbone as lightly as I can manage, and she trembles under a moan. "And for some reason," she pants, "with the strap going down my back, it makes me almost spill out of the cups because of how it pushes everything up."

"Jesus Christ," I mumble and she laughs quietly, skillfully using her feet to push my jeans the rest of the way down my legs.

I tug her skirt up to her waist as she scoots further onto the bed, her hands reaching for anything above her that she can cling to as she arches her back under my drifting hands. I grab the zipper on the side of her dress with my teeth, pulling it down torturously slow as her body rolls.

"There's an extra two-inch band of fabric at the bottom of the bra, the whole way around," she whispers, tilting her hips up seductively as I draw her panties down her long legs. "It's just enough to draw your eyes to the boy-short panties that I know are your favorite, and the garter belt that goes with it."

I groan and draw my mouth up her thigh and over her stomach, biting at her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress. It's some sort of miracle that it's not in scraps at this point.

"You're going to love it," she says with a smile. "It looks like something a virgin would wear on her wedding night. It should probably come with angel wings, which we can get, if you want…"

Oh, I want.

"Silk?" I ask and pull her dress the rest of the way up and off her body.

"Lace," she breathes with a sexy grin, her hands expertly fanning her hair out above her because she knows I love it when she looks ripe for the ravishing, made even better by her being freely given. "All lace, baby."

"_God_, I love you," I growl and I'm not going to care ever again where we are, where we go, who's watching or what's happening. Nothing is going to stop me from making sure she knows that.

Not anymore.

"I know you do," she whispers and I rush up and over her, my mouth desperately finding hers because I can't kiss her soon enough.

* * *

She wakes me up in the middle of our last night with a hand over my eyes, a finger laid over my lips. Soft lips and hot breath cascading over my ear as she shushes me.

And I have no idea what's going on, but I should have guessed that inevitably she'd turn the tables on me. I'm not even that surprised when I feel the silk of the black scarf settle over my eyes. She ties it carefully and the soft skin of her thighs brushes either side of me as she straddles my hips, and I risk a smile.

I know for certain she was passed blissfully out by the time I closed my eyes. She always falls asleep first. And normally, she is securely living in dreamland until well into morning, so either something is bothering her and it woke her up, or she planned this.

I'm more inclined to believe the latter because she seems perfectly relaxed. Her pulse is even and steady, breaths are calm. I also didn't hear her get the scarf out of the dresser, so Option A: I'm getting a little too cozy down here if she can move around at night without me detecting her disappearance, or Option B: She had it ready to go so she never actually left the bed.

I'm gonna go with B. Just for my own peace of mind.

I distract myself by smoothing my palms up her sides, feeling that she's still wonderfully naked. Although I wouldn't be opposed to her putting on that white angel set again.

She wasn't kidding, those three pieces are more than enough to get me begging to buy her puppies and braid her hair for as long as she's wearing that. And it was a hell of a way to end our trip.

I stroke my thumb under the base of her breast, and I can almost still feel the lace band that teased its way around her ribs. And with how tan she is right now? She needs to be wearing white like _all_ the time.

I moan a little at the thought, my lack of sight sending my skin's awareness into overdrive and I can't resist rubbing my palms over her nipples. They harden and so does my cock and everything in me screams for more contact, more _her_.

"I want to show you something," she says quietly and I am absolutely, fully awake and ready for my lesson, Miss Gilbert.

"How am I supposed to see when you blindfolded me?" I ask, and she takes my hands from her skin and rests them safely on my chest.

"Tonight, you listen," she says seriously, and I swallow at the zero amount of room for negotiation in her voice.

Very rarely do I get the 'So help me God, if you buck me on this you're gonna regret it,' tone, but I still recognize it, loud and clear. I'm pretty sure that voice recognition chip comes standard when having a Y chromosome.

"Am I in some sort of trouble?" I test and she soothingly rubs the back of my hands.

"Not unless you don't pay attention," she warns. "This is very, very important."

I nod and she blows out a small breath.

"Privacy is about to become a luxury for us, and you are a very private man, Damon," she says gently and my brow furrows. "I need you to know that when you speak to me around other people, that I hear you. I need to know that you'll hear me."

Okay, I officially have no idea what's happening here. Is this like the running away thing? Now we need some sort of code?

Why the hell does everything have to be so damn secretive?

I calm down a little bit when she takes my hands and holds them up between us, slipping her fingers through mine, palm to palm.

"This is _safe_," she tells me, and something in my chest squeezes as she fractionally tightens her grip. "The first time we were together, before you ever touched me, this is how you promised that you wouldn't hurt me and I _heard_ you. I heard you when we first got here and I was nervous about us taking this room, and this is what I told you before you drank from me for the first time. This is always how you promise that I'm okay, that you'll take care of me."

She's right. I didn't even realize it until now, but I _do_ hold her hands whenever she's scared and that's exactly what it's always meant.

She drapes my hands around her neck, my thumbs instinctively caressing her jaw and I startle a little when hers do the same to me.

"_I'm here with you,"_ she breathes, _"and I'm not going anywhere."_

Behind black silk it's like a movie in fast forward, flashes of images from all the times that she and I have done this, and her words fit every single time.

She leans forward and nuzzles her nose against mine. _"I adore you,"_ she says with a smile in her voice, and the corner of my lips turn up. A small shift and her temple rests against mine, how they always find each other when we dance. _"I cherish you,"_ she tells me and a shiver runs down my spine.

She touches her forehead to mine, and I pinch my eyes shut under the scarf.

"This is _thank you_," she tells me and I barely nod. "And also, _I'm sorry_."

I lock my jaw because it starts shaking, and I have no idea if she sees it, but she probably does. She's been seeing more than I ever recognized.

And I'm not exactly sure why she felt that I needed to be blinded for this, but I'm glad that she did. My eyes would say too clearly how much this means to me, how strongly it's affecting me. I can keep quiet so she can't hear my voice break in the way I know it would, but by letting me hide my eyes it's giving me a sense of control, a tiny semblance of concealment in how exposed I feel emotionally.

She kisses my cheek and I focus on my breathing, trying to keep it steady. _"You're sweet,"_ she whispers before she sits back.

She takes my hand from her neck and it feels large and clumsy in her fragile, smaller ones. She turns it over and extends my index finger, lightly touching under her chin with the pad of my fingertip. _"Do you trust me?"_ she asks, "and sometimes, _we'll get through this."_

"Elena…" I choke out, because I need to see her, kiss her, and this is all too much.

There are too many memories. Battles and fights and days of being restrained except for these stolen gestures and all the nights when she never heard my voice, but she felt my hands and she _knew,_ absolutely everything.

"Almost," she says quietly and I nod again.

She guides my hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and my traitorous jaw trembles again.

"This is _I love you_," she explains, and my whole body is ignited when her nails sneak into the hairs at the nape of my neck, massaging gently. "And it's the same for me."

I swallow thickly as she leans forward again, one of her hands cupping my jaw while the other stays comfortingly in my hair, and she kisses me softly.

"Do you hear me, Damon?" she asks and I nod my yes.

Her hands leave and then delicately, so delicately, I feel her start to undo the knot she tied. One soft pull and then black fades away, causing me to blink a few times to adjust to the moonlight. My gaze settles on rich brown eyes, secure and calming and patient.

"Anything else you need, you look into my eyes and it'll be there. I promise."

She smiles and the corner of my mouth follows her lead, those precious, lovely lips that I waited forever to kiss.

"You really weren't kidding, were you?" I ask, my head cocked in amusement and my voice a little too crackly for my ego, but she doesn't mention it.

"What? That I've always seen you?" she confirms.

"Mm-hmm," I nod, tucking her hair behind her ear before I lightly cup her cheek in my hand.

She smiles and her eyes are wide open as she leans into my touch, and I've never loved any sight more.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I had such a blast doing my own little shout out to Blinded, the one shot that refused to die! Can't wait to hear your responses, and make sure you keep an eye out for the next chapter! It's gonna be sharp ;)**

**-Goldnox**


	12. The Sweet Snip of Self-Discovery

**A/N: What a 100th episode! Whoo! That was something else.**

**Okay my sweets, I just do not have words for how much I enjoyed every single one of your reviews from the last chapter. I am so touched by your never ending support, and I never expected the response for the last chapter to be what it was. I am just in awe of you guys. This one is a big favorite for me, and I hope you love it just as much!**

**My darling dragon, Trogdor19, beta'd this for me, as she does everything, and she's the bestest. So much bestest that the Super Dragon herself actually snow-shoed into a cabin beyond the reach of cell service and email, and I miss her terribly while she is writing her fire-breathing booty off. So let's all show our support, because without her there would be no me, and let's all go ****spam her with reviews on _In Time We Trust_ so when she gets back to civilization and sees them, she will love us all so much that she will NEVER ABANDON ME AGAIN TO LOOK AT SNOW COVERED TREES! *cough/sniffle* Please, guys? We need to like...guilt trip her or something LOL...and when she gets back to the internet and sees this I am going to be in so much trouble... (bwa-ha-ha)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Sweet Snip of Self-Discovery**

I lock the front door and turn, and Elena is leaning up against the hood of the car with her arms crossed. And looking none too pleased.

It's gonna be a long trip home.

"'Bye house," she sighs when I come to stand next to her. "You were a good house."

"If these walls could talk, you know what they would say?"

"Hmm?"

"A whole bunch of things that would make Hugh Hefner crazy fucking jealous," I grin and she smacks me on the stomach.

I sling my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me, both of us just staring at windows and ivy and I don't know why girls get so sentimental about stuff like this. It's not like the place is going to vanish into thin air once we leave and we'll never be able to come back.

But still.

I turn us around and pull the disposable camera out of my back pocket, taking a picture of me and Elena with the house in the background and not even wincing at the sappiness of the act like I want to.

She grins up at me and I toss her the camera. "I thought that roll was done…"

"Different camera," I tell her. "This one's my point of view."

And it is.

I somehow managed to sneak in getting it between an embarrassed Elena's luggage purchase yesterday and _more_ lingerie buying, and I have also successfully photographed my favorite moments inside the house, just without any evidence of people being there.

There's a view into the kitchen from the dining room where I watched her sashay and belt out her desire to be a lover. A chess set on the breakfast table with the queen knocked over. The sunrise from the deck. The tub. Even all our clothes dumped in a pile in the middle of our room since Elena insisted on washing them before the packing began.

Sometimes, when she does things like that, it's not hard to understand why I do things like take pictures of empty rooms because I know it'll make her happy. She's worth it.

"You really took pictures of the house?" she smiles, holding the camera like it's something precious.

"We'll have to see. Maybe it's twenty-four identical shots of me catching you bent over," I wink and she throws her arms around my middle, squeezing me tightly.

"Thank you, Damon."

"You're the one with the great ass. I should be thanking you," I say and drop a kiss to her hair. "And now that ass needs to be in the car so we can get home before _someone's_ guardian sends out a search party."

"He's _your_ friend," she laughs and pulls away from me.

"Says who?"

"Can I drive?" she beams, then her mouth turns into a dramatic pout. "I'm all sad because we're leaving, and it would really make me feel better…"

"Aww, poor baby," I pout back at her and she holds her hand out for the keys. "Life's so tough for those stuck in the passenger seat. Which is exactly where you belong."

"Jerk," she says and deliberately shoves her shoulder into mine as she stalks off to get in the car.

I whistle at her just as she reaches for the door, and she turns just in time to catch the keys I toss her.

"Yes!" she squeals and scampers around to the driver's side.

"Don't get used to it," I mumble. "And I'm not compelling you out of any speeding tickets, so your lead foot's all on you."

"Please," she scoffs as we climb in, and I bite back my moan at watching her start the car and rev the engine. "Who needs compulsion when you have breasts?"

"Oh, fuck me," I chuckle, wincing as she shifts into reverse and mentally preparing myself for hours of cringing.

"Anytime, baby, anytime," she grins and stomps the accelerator before she slams on the brake, my whole body jerking at the force.

"Elena!" I shout, and she shrugs innocently.

"Whoops…"

* * *

I roll over in bed and look at a peacefully sleeping Elena, stretched out on her stomach beside me. She only sleeps that way when she's three exits past exhausted, and I can't help my smile that I know that.

Yesterday was not nearly as bad as I expected. For the most part it was still smiles and laughs, with the occasional quiet spell sneaking in. And driving seemed to keep her occupied instead of focusing on what we were leaving behind, and simultaneously heading back to.

I have to give it to her, because despite what I expected, girl can drive. It doesn't make me any less nervous because she's still breakable, but it helps a little. Because Elena had been stubbornly driving for almost nine hours when we hit a massive thunderstorm coming into St. Augustine last night, and when the car in front of us hydroplaned and spun out, she kept her cool and somehow managed to avoid him. Barely.

I had a fucking heart attack, but she was fine. Or I thought she was until she pulled off safely and the shock settled in, and then it was pale skin and shaking hands and eyes wide in panic. She didn't even protest when I told her that I was taking over, and it took me five minutes to calm her down after we switched seats; me soaking wet from the rain as tears ran down her cheeks and my voice on repeat swearing she didn't do anything wrong and I wasn't mad and there was nothing she could have done other than the kickass maneuver she pulled off.

Honestly, I think she was just exhausted, because there's no other reason she should have freaked out that much when we didn't end up upside down in a ditch.

I did end up calling it a lost cause and exited the highway not even thirty minutes later in Jacksonville, because the storm was not letting up and there was no way she was going to sleep in the car while being that stressed out by the rain. Even once we were safely holed up in our current motel, it took quite a bit of extra attention on my part before she finally went to sleep, and she still woke me up two hours later needing a bit more comforting. Not that I had any problems with that. I'll never turn down an excuse to see how many noise complaints I can wrangle out of the management.

I scored three.

Thanks to Elena's nocturnal activities I should be vividly dreaming a re-enactment right about now, and I'm not sure why I woke up so early. But it probably has something to do with the neon lights from the alarm clock that are starting to resemble a ticking time bomb, counting down to the great big boom that I know will strike when we hit Mystic Falls. At this point, I'd rather get it all over with so I can know what we're facing.

But to do that, I first need to poke the dragon.

I sweep her hair off her bare back, smoothing my hand down her spine and pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

"Time to wake up, trouble. Your halo is in need of shining."

She grumbles and bats at my hand on her back. "Go away."

"Can't. Double the fine for arriving without the goods."

"Go wink at the housekeepers," she mumbles into her pillow. "I'm sure they'd be happy to play with you. _I'm_ sleeping."

"Ooh, she's feisty this morning," I tease and she shoves at me without looking.

"Your fault."

"Mine? You're the one that woke me up at four this morning with your mouth-"

"Shut _up_, Damon."

"Grrr," I growl playfully and she turns her head to face me, still stubbornly on her stomach.

"Why are you in such a good mood? You sneak out and eat a Rabbi or something?"

"I'm always happy when you smell like sex," I grin and she huffs at me.

"You're disgusting."

"But honest," I say cheerfully.

"If I smell like sex it's 'cause I was nice to you, which means you need to be sweet to me. Them's the rules," she mutters and turns her head away from me.

"I'm _very_ nice to you," I tell her and she pushes at me again.

"Then don't ruin your streak now. Go take your shower so I can go back to sleep."

"But I'll be all lonely," I whine.

"_Damon,"_ she growls at me and I flinch.

"Suit yourself, grumpy."

I leave one kiss on her back before I roll out of bed, Elena slurring something about me having a nice day at the office.

Girl has a gift for making sassy so adorable.

She's still snuggled in bed by the time I'm showered and shaved and dressed, and I'm starting to think this has a little more to do with avoidance of the inevitable than just sleep deprivation. Color me un-surprised.

I crouch down beside the bed, tucking her hair behind her ear where it's fallen forward over her face.

"Elena," I breathe.

"What?" she snaps and I ignore it.

"I'm going to run out for a bit, so you've got about an hour to get ready to go."

She opens her eyes and narrows them at me. "You're leaving?"

"Just need to run an errand."

"I was kidding about the housekeepers, Damon."

"Don't tell them that," I smile.

I hold up the cameras and wiggle them at her, and her expression becomes infinitely less hostile.

"Oh, you're going to get them developed now?"

"Might as well," I shrug and then tilt my head at her. "Unless you wanted to do it later."

"No," she yawns, "it's fine."

"Okay. I'll be back soon, no letting murderers into our room."

"Who's a funny boy?" she deadpans and closes her eyes again.

"You're still going to be asleep when I get back, aren't you?"

"Nope. But you'll never find out if you don't go. See ya later," she says and salutes me, her eyes still sealed shut.

I shake my head and kiss her temple, and when I stand I know that I am a jerk. But a jerk that needs to get her home tonight because keeping her cooped up in a car is so wrong and a third day of traveling is not on the menu.

For twenty seconds I look at the bucket I brought back from the ice machine last night and I think real hard about not doing this, but it's for a good cause so screw it.

I yank up the sheets by Elena's feet and toss a couple of half-melted ice cubes under the blankets and across her skin, and she screams and shrieks and scrambles up to standing on the mattress. And Jesus, if I never get this look from her again it won't be soon enough.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she bellows at me. "You are the cruelest, most asinine-"

"See you in an hour," I smirk at her, dodging the pillow she hurls at me before exiting the room and counting my blessings that she didn't think to use the lamp.

* * *

I blow out a breath before opening the door to the motel room, half-convinced she's going to stake me as soon as I cross the threshold. But when I open the door she's not waiting with a weapon, and the echo of her heartbeat is coming from the bathroom so all signs point to safe, for now.

"Don't shoot, I come bearing gifts," I call out and shut the door, setting the coffee and chocolate croissants on the bedside table and tucking the developed pictures into the front pocket of her suitcase. They came out incredible, she's gonna forgive me anything when she sees them.

I take a sip of coffee with a grimace. Ugh, maybe not if I give her this. I set down the cup and scowl at it. That coffee was my backup plan. Traitor.

My head tilts when I realize she hasn't said anything, and my suspicion meter spikes.

"Elena, you about ready to go?" I call out and head towards the bathroom.

I stop and lean up against the doorframe, crossing my arms and locking my trap shut when I see her.

Standard blue jeans, blue tank top and Converse sneakers on, a Henley laid next to the sink like she's still deciding whether to wear it. But what's keeping me quiet is the makeup and the hair. Gone is the fresh faced, wavy-haired Elena of Key West, and taking its place we have the primped and 85% complete, artificially-slick-straight hair of Mystic Falls.

She glances up at me and meets my eyes in the mirror.

"What?" she asks sharply and I shift my weight, clearing my throat. Her eyes narrow into slits and I'm not sure if it's my lack of verbal response or just whatever she sees in my expression, but something causes her to throw down the flat iron on the counter angrily.

"Just…don't start with me right now," she snaps and I arch an eyebrow. "It's just my hair, it's not like I'm breaking up with you so stop looking at me like that!"

My eyes widen and she rounds on me.

"I had straight hair for every day that you knew me before we came down here so what is the big freaking deal, Damon?"

I push off the doorframe and slowly walk towards her, and even with my measured approach she still backs up and bumps into the counter behind her.

"First off," I say, trying to keep my voice as non-threatening as possible but she still balks, "I could stand for you to lose the attitude."

Remorse flits across her eyes and she looks down, and even with her staring at my shoes I can see her bottom lip quivering. No doubt about it: Houston, we have a major problem.

"Second," I add a little calmer, "it's not about what I want, because I don't care. It's about what _you_ want. And third, on the count of three I am officially giving you four minutes to cry and freak out, and then we'll talk about it."

She peeks up at me and her eyes are already watering.

"Three…two…" And we don't get to one before she bursts into tears.

I wrap her in my arms as she sobs onto my shoulder, her whole body racked with spasms as she gasps for breaths. Then without warning, her voice suddenly surges into life with the force of a jet engine.

"_God_ I'm so sorry I went off like that it's just that I feel so crazy right now because everything is so messed up and different and weird and it's not your fault and I'm being so mean to you and I know you don't care about how I look and I shouldn't care but when I got out of the shower I just started doing my makeup and then I was straightening my hair and I don't even know why it just happened and it's not that big of a deal because it's just my hair but it feels like it _means_ something and I haven't done it the whole time we were gone and it's not because you're not worth the effort because you are but I just didn't and that feels like it means something too and now that we're going home it feels like I should straighten it and that's so stupid but I can't explain it and it feels like I'm betraying you by doing it and I know that's dumb too but it's just how I feel and…I wish my _mom_ was here…"

"I know," I tell her, my voice soft as I hold her a little tighter and run a hand down her hair.

She's still crying at full steam ahead and I can only think that I should have prepared her for this instead of letting it sneak up on her. And this is not exactly what I would consider an ideal place for this shit to happen, but at least it's private. God knows if we were at home right now we'd be interrupted eight times by that many people, so I guess I'll take it as some sort of small miracle that we're ten hours from anyone that can manage to make this any more difficult for her.

And every male instinct in my body tells me to sooth her, shush her, but I _can't, _so I just stay quiet until she's ready.

"What is going on?" she finally whimpers and I try not to smile, but I can only hold the majority of it back so some still sneaks out.

"Hair freak out. Happens, or so I'm told," I say lightly and squeeze her once more before I pull back and grab a roll of toilet paper, breaking off a section and gently wiping at her cheeks.

"You think I'm a total spaz, don't you?" she sniffles and takes the roll from me, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose with disgusted grimace.

I wait until she throws the wad of paper away before I slide my fingers through hers. "You want normal, sarcastic me? Or the rare nice version that only you get and if you tell anyone about I will deny until the day I turn gray?"

"Is that seriously an option I get to choose?" she asks me, her eyes wide and red and puffy and I don't have the heart to tease her much more right now.

"For today," I nod, then blow out a breath. "Elena, you are not a spaz. And you are certainly not crazy, apart from linking yourself to me. You are just growing up, that's all."

"What the hell does that have to do with my hair?" she squeaks and I bite my cheeks against a grin.

"How long have you been wearing your hair like that? Since you were what, eleven, twelve?"

"Yeah," she sniffles. "How'd you know that?"

"Wild guess. So it's what you're used to, what everyone who knows you is used to. It's who you've been for a long time now."

"So what? That's no reason for feeling like I'm having a nervous breakdown."

"The point," I say slowly, "is do you even know why you do it?"

"Because," she starts strongly, then fades off with her mouth open when she realizes she can't answer.

"Exactly. And that's okay, Elena, if it's what you want, how you want to look. But when it was just us, you were okay with letting it be wavy. And that does mean something."

"So I'm…what? Lying by straightening my hair?" She shakes her head. "Don't date me, Damon, there's something wrong with me," she says and I risk a small chuckle, tightening my grip on her hands.

"You're not lying, you're _changing," _I explain and she rolls her eyes at me. "Over these next few years, there are going to be things about you that shift. What you like, what you think, _how_ you think. And maybe you've already started doing something you wouldn't have done a year ago. You like certain types of music or watch different movies or want to stop straightening your hair. Who knows, in two years you could decide that pickles are the best thing on this planet and eat them constantly."

"Fat chance," she mumbles and I smile.

"There's nothing wrong with exploring new things," I say then drop my voice so it's as private as possible. "And I know you're scared, but this is normal." She squeezes her eyes shut and when a tear rolls down her cheek, she brings up our locked hands to brush it away. "The trick is, you have to recognize it in yourself when it happens, and try to just go with it. Because one morning you're going to wake up and realize you're not the same girl that's standing here right now."

"But, I _like_ who I am."

Her eyes well up again and she looks so lost, and it's so hard not to lie to her and tell her she'll never be different.

"Yeah, you're okay," I wink and get a hint of a smile from her. "Did you like who you were when you were twelve?"

"Sure," she shrugs.

"Are you the same now as you were then?"

She purses her lips. "No."

"Surprise! You grew up a bit, not so different from what's happening now. It's just a little more intense because estrogen is a mighty bitch and will not stand for you to thumb your nose at her." She laughs a little and somehow manages to look guilty for doing it. "Everyone goes through this, Elena. People go to college and have to come home and explain to their families why they are suddenly gay or are all about the purple hair and Legos. We went to Florida and inadvertently fast-tracked you."

"Why did that make such a difference?" she asks softly and I squeeze her hands a little tighter.

"Because, when we left, you got your first taste of what life is like outside of the nest. What it will be like once you graduate and move out, whether that's to go to school or somewhere with me, or even if you've smarted up and kicked me to the curb and strike out on your own. And not only what life will be like, but who _you_ will be when no one is expecting you to be someone they already know."

"God," she sighs, "this is like…"

"I know," I nod. "And I know you wish your mom was here, but she'd tell you the same thing because I'm sure she went through this too. And don't tell him this was my idea, but talk to Ric. He knew Isobel when she was in college and I'm sure she had her identity freak outs and he can tell you all about them."

"Seriously?"

"Sure," I shrug. "You may be a doppelganger, but you're not _that_ special," I tease and I finally get a full smile out of her.

"What do you know? It's not like you ever had to deal with this crap," she tests and ten pounds of tension melts out of my shoulders from her copping an attitude.

"You think you go through this once?" I scoff. "Try every ten years for the rest of your life, and I've been around a long time. And not only that, but vampire emotions swing harder than they do for humans so our freak outs are catastrophic. Why do you think I drink so much?"

"You're such a liar," she laughs. "You never freak out."

"That's right," I nod. "Because I didn't have a major personality shift when you barged into my life or anything. No change at all."

"What? You barged into _my_ life!"

"Agree to disagree about things that don't matter," I smile and she narrows her eyes at me.

"I call that a forfeit."

"You would," I say and she scoffs.

I tuck her hair behind her ear and hook a finger under her chin so I'm sure she's looking at my eyes.

"But back to the hair. You look and act how you want to. Not how you think people expect you to, or what you think I'll like. The only thing that I care about is that you are honest with yourself, and with me."

"Okay…" she nods.

"I'm serious, Elena," I tell her and her eyes widen at the gravity in my voice. "Bad things can happen when people try to hold onto a person that they no longer are. I expect you to change; I won't stand for you trying to stay this way forever. Because you won't. Not your hair, or your clothes, or even your waistline."

"Oh God, don't say that…"

"Tough, kiddo. But in the end, you'll still be you," I tell her and her fingers curl around my hip, keeping me in place. "So chances are good that I'm still going to love you when you decide that the world needs to survive on seaweed and that the color lilac should be used for street signs and that it's past time to shave your head. As long as you keep shaving your legs, we're good to go," I grin. "Just none of this bohemian, 'I want to be natural' stuff. That's where I draw the line."

She laughs and shakes her head. "I thought I was supposed to be getting nice, no-sarcasm-Damon…"

"I was nice!" I dispute. "You just have no appreciation for the special treatment you get. Speaking of special treatment," I say and jerk my chin at her, "want to know something cool?"

"Sure."

"When you hit about thirty your sex drive is going to shoot off the fucking charts," I laugh and she shoves at my chest. "Be gentle! I'm conserving my strength in preparation."

"You're incorrigible," she tells me and I shrug one shoulder.

"At least I'm hot."

"Uh-huh," she smiles and wraps her arms around my waist, and when she lays her head over my heart and hugs me tightly, I melt a little.

But just a little.

I rest my cheek to her hair and breathe her in, all eighteen years of her beautifully bipolar hormones before asking, "Are you done having a breakdown yet? Because we really need to get going."

"Yep, all done," she says cheerfully. "Saved by Damon, Master Teen Counselor."

"Don't spread that shit around, it's like herpes for your reputation," I grumble and she giggles lightly.

She lets me go and turns to face the mirror, picking up the flat iron she threw down and reaching for a section of hair in the back that I have no idea how she's going to straighten. I watch her struggle for more than a minute before I can't take it anymore.

"Gimme that," I sigh and grab the flat iron from her hand, and her eyes widen with amusement but she doesn't say anything because she damn well knows better. "You were taking forever," I explain and start running the iron through her hair.

"Sorry," she smiles at me, blushing and biting her lip.

"You really do this every day?" I whine, moving to another section of hair.

"Yep."

"It's time consuming to be cute…"

"Damon, wait!" she suddenly yells and I pause.

"What? Did I burn you or something?"

"How crazy are you?" she asks and she has that _look_ again, that wild and devious excitement that makes me want to get drunk with her before I lock her in a padded room so she doesn't hurt herself when she tries to destroy the world.

"Certifiable, strait jacket on standby. Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"Be right back," she rattles off before she's running from the bathroom, leaving me standing there with a flat iron in one hand and the other just hovering where her hair slipped from my fingers.

She mumbles something unintelligible while unzipping something else, and it sounds like she's digging through my bag when all of a sudden there's an, "Ah ha!" and then she's sauntering back into the bathroom, taking her place in front of me and facing the mirror.

"What are you-"

"Watch this," she grins and then it's scissors and hair and very definitive, drawn out snip.

"What the fuck," I gasp and she bursts out laughing, dangling a newly detached six-inch-long section of hair before dropping it proudly into the sink.

I am in complete shock.

I mean— _What the fuck?_

She just cut off a chunk of her hair so big the new raw ends are a good inch above her shoulders and she looks like she couldn't be happier about it and I think I read somewhere that this is a cry for help and she has my blood in her system but it won't help her haircut and did I totally screw her up with my change talk and _fuck_, she's not going to commit suicide or something is she?

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

"Wake up," she chirps and I shake my head. Am I dreaming? "I have had long hair…" Another snip. "My whole life." Snip, snip, snip. "I had long hair when my parents died." Attacking the other side now… "When Klaus drained me during that stupid sacrifice." Big snip. "And it is time…" Snip, cut, slice. "For a change."

She reaches behind her to grab the hair at the back of her head, and I snatch the scissors away from her.

"Fresh start, Damon," she smiles at me in the mirror, and I blow out a breath.

This is such a bad idea, but it's a little too late to drop that epiphany on her now.

"Okaaay," I drawl out and wince when I cut off a section from the back, trying to keep it the same length as the front.

God, there's something so wrong about feeling the blades cut through her hair, but if this is what she wants…

I fling a section of hair in the sink next to the others and she is completely lit up and I can't help but to smile with her. I chuckle and shake my head, taking care of the rest of it and trying to even out the sides she hacked off.

I catch a peek of myself in the mirror and here I am, 170 years old and cutting off my girlfriend's hair with a pair of scissors in the bathroom of a shitty little motel in Jacksonville, Florida at ten A.M.

Yep, it's official. We are _crazy_.

I toss the last of it in the sink and spin the handle of the scissors around my finger, watching a beaming Elena in the mirror. She turns and tilts and checks out her new do, shaking it out and running her hands through it and just giggling the whole time.

She's probably going to wake up screaming tomorrow and castrate me for taking part in this instead of stopping her, but fuck it, she looks happy for now.

"How's it feel?" I ask, and I don't know why _I_ feel about eighteen years old, but it must have something to do with the high radiating from her.

"Like freedom," she breathes, and I barely get the scissors thrown down on the counter away from her before she's done twirling around and wrapping her arms around my neck.

I squeeze her tight, then duck my head to growl and nip at her newly exposed neck and she laughs and squirms, squealing my name as she pulls away.

"Yeah, we should have done this a long time ago," I smirk at her.

"So, you like it?"

"Hope you're not planning on staying dressed any length of time past five minutes," I wink at her, and she blushes. "You ready to go home?"

"Just an address, right?"

"You bet."

She shrugs happily. "Then let's go."

I nod and grab the scissors, walking them back to my suitcase and leaving her to her giggly primping.

Blondie is going to have a coronary when she sees Elena and I hope to God I'm there when it happens. Shit is going to be priceless. Jeremy probably won't even notice, Ric will shrug and Witchy will coo all over her. But Barbie? No dice. Because it may be a bit of a mess right now but my girl still looks like a knockout, and some females just don't handle jealousy all that well, or subtly.

I shake my head. I can't believe Elena's never worn her hair that short. It's cute as all hell.

I'm bent over and just zipping my bag closed when she suddenly screams.

I blur the three foot distance to her and she's staring in the mirror, hands gripping the sink.

"_I just cut all my hair off!" _she screeches and I burst out laughing at the horrified look on her face. "What were you thinking?!" she yells as she turns on me, pointing viciously while I double over, clutching my chest and trying to gain my breath. "What was _I_ thinking?!"

"Oh God," I gasp, standing up and leaning against the doorway. "You should see your face…"

"You're insane and it's rubbing off on me!" she shouts, but she's starting to smile again as the manic assault begins, half-hearted smacks and shoves against my arms and chest as I laugh harder and block sloppily. "How am I supposed to explain coming home with no hair?"

"Gum?" I suggest and she giggles and keeps swinging. "Or we'll just compel everyone that you've always looked this way and no one will ever notice…"

"This isn't funny!" she laughs.

"You're the one that decided Pedro's Motel needed to be turned into a Vidal Sassoon," I grin and get one more shove before she turns around, blowing out a breath and squinting at her reflection.

"Oh God! It's all wonky and uneven," she whimpers with a cringe and I slide up behind her, tucking the short strands behind her ears and when they fall back out, she pouts and I hug my arms around her.

"We'll fix it," I promise sweetly, even though I'm still chuckling and not even trying to hide it. "Nothing that can't be straightened out. But by a professional this time."

"God, this is going to be so embarrassing," she blushes and covers her face with her hands.

"Blame it on me. Boyfriend got drunk and you woke up with wonky hair. No biggie."

"You're really going to say that?" she whispers nervously, peeking through her fingers.

"Watch _this_," I tell her and grab her hand, towing her from the bathroom.

* * *

**A/N:** **Alrighty guys, we are coming to a rapid end! :'( I know, sad faces all around. We have one more actual chapter to go, and then an epilogue that I hope will leave everyone in a big puddle of goo. At least, that's part of my evil wizardress plan.**

**Okay, I have to tell you all, I AM STUPID EXCITED ABOUT WHAT I'M DOING NEXT! As I mentioned before, I am now working on an AU/AH (I have a lot of groveling and removal of foot from mouth going on, I know) but it is turning out to be ridiculous fun and I'm cranking out words and chapters at a rate that is just...yeah, I don't even have an explanation. It is NOT normal, I'll tell you that. And wanna know a secret? (shh!) It's DAMON POV! And this Damon? Oh, my. He's something else. So don't forget to click that follow author button because I don't want you to miss it!**

**See you guys next chapter, when Damon and Elena go home to Mystic Falls with a whole bunch of pictures and a brand new haircut to explain, not to mention being totally freaking in love and adorable, and possibly re-christening Elena's bed... *happy sigh* **

**-Goldnox**


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